Hidden Things
by Ruse
Summary: FINISHED: Severitus. Harry becomes involved in a dangerous spell that reveals the frightening truth about Snape and could also give Voldemort his chance to kill him. Alternate Universe - Sixth Year.
1. A Day Like Any Other

**Hidden Things**_  
_A Day Like Any Other

_Harry becomes involved in a dangerous spell that reveals the frightening truth about Snape and could also give Voldemort his chance to kill him. Alternate Universe - Sixth Year._

xxx

In a soft mixture of gold and blue the morning began to creep through the park, on past the playground equipment, tangling through the trees. A few Muggles came and went about their early business, paying not a drop of attention to the shadowy figure of a teenage boy sitting all alone on a bench with his nose in a book. He didn't pay them any attention either, though from time to time his mind wandered from the words before his eyes. In fact an hour had passed before he realized he was still on the same page as when he bad begun. Harry Potter sat back and laid the book aside, looking out across the foggy morning. Summer had not gone well. The Dursleys had not taken too well to the little conversation they had been treated to at the end of last year's term. They _had _grudgingly allowed him free reign with Hedwig for a change, all too afraid that those 'freakish friends' of his would prove good on their word to show up should he suddenly stop communicating. But their attitude towards him hadn't improved and in fact had only worsened.

He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose before sinking his fingers into his wild, raven-dark hair. He hadn't stayed around for breakfast much over the summer, but knew that to stay away all day wasn't a wise decision. Uncle Vernon took a certain pleasure in hurrying Aunt Petunia and Dudley out of the house as soon as he returned from work for hours on end with the door locked, knowing Harry couldn't get back in until they returned, which was almost always _after _dinner out. He had spent a few hot afternoons sitting on the front porch with nothing to do and nothing to eat. As nice as it was to not have the Dursley's around the novelty of being apart from them inevitably wore off to be replaced with the solitary anguish of being alone with his unpleasant thoughts.

It wasn't the expected nastiness from his relatives that had made the summer even less bearable than usual. That was at least something he knew how to handle. No, it had been the loneliness and loss more than anything that had made the summer drag on hopelessly, endlessly. His dreams tormented him with images of the Department of Mysteries, leaving him with numb mornings that matured into sorrowful nights. These brought on more visions of pain and fear and guilt. Staying awake until the wee hours never helped, nor did those few dreamless times of rest he managed now and then. He missed Hermione and Ron, missed the school and Hagrid. And he missed Sirius. Living with the Dursleys only reinforced the knowledge that he had lost forever the closest thing to a true parent he had ever had. He no longer woke up with tears in his eyes threatening to fall, but a void, familiar and cold.

Harry groaned at himself and kicked at the dust beneath his feet. At least when he was listening to Uncle Vernon gripe about him or having Aunt Petunia shove gardening gloves in his hand he wasn't thinking about the void. Picking up his Quidditch book he got up from the bench, stretched and began towards the Dursleys. He had letters from his friends to look forward to today. It was his birthday.

His walk home was uninterrupted, as usual. It was far too early for Dudley to be out and about after his midnight carousing with his gang, and of course the neighbors would never bother to speak or even look at him. That was one of the few virtues of being forced to return to Little Whinging every summer. There weren't people gawking at him in droves and right now he didn't think he could put up with it if there were.

When Number Four Privet Drive came into view he was both gratified to see the car still in the driveway, it being a fair Saturday, and annoyed at the no doubt snide reaction he was going to walk in on once he opened that door. With a sigh he poised himself to do just that when it opened before his hand even reached the knob. Before him stood his uncle, red faced and furious. A large hand closed over Harry's shoulder and before he could ask what he'd done, he was whisked away into the house. He stumbled forward just as the door slammed with a jarring force that made him wince. Still, he turned with a measure of weary dignity to see what sort of bee had infiltrated Uncle Vernon's bonnet.

His uncle raised a fist in which was clenched a parchment and Harry widened his eyes, wondering who had written. "What do you mean, boy, wandering the streets when these so-called teachers of yours want you to stay put? And don't you try to deny you knew it, either! Where are the letters they sent you?"

Harry swallowed guiltily. Oh, not for making Uncle Vernon mad, certainly. He couldn't care less. But he knew now they must be watching him, watching him day and night, putting himself in danger regardless of their wishes that he remain in or very near the house at all times. He hadn't thought of it, walking alone in the shady light of pre-dawn. He had taken the silence for granted and now he realized he was worrying his friends for his own selfish needs. "The letters are upstairs."

Vernon turned a shade redder and tossed the crinkled parchment at him as if it were a weapon. "If one of those ruddy owls flies at me again with those...those..._people _of yours asking _me _to keep you in this house-as if I wanted you here any more than necessary-so help me, boy, you'll stay in that cupboard for the rest of the summer! I'll not have those strange people barging into _my _home, blaming me for your lack of sense! Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes," Harry groaned, knitting his brow and glancing at the stairs. Of course Uncle Vernon didn't care one way or another if Harry endangered himself (he would probably encourage it if not for the threat of wizards dropping in), but to be addressed by magic folk as if they were equals, that would naturally infuriate the old man. After a dismissing glare aimed at him Harry hurried up the stairs before he could be assigned some sort of task in retribution.

He wandered into the washroom and ran the water, removing his glasses so he could splash his face. The water cooled him, refreshed him and gave him an excuse to avoid going into his room for a few minutes, which would delay the potential finding of sharp-toned or disappointed letters from any number of sources reprimanding his careless walks. He sighed softly and leaned against the sink, watching the water funnel down the drain. Part of him didn't care to heed to sense. Let Voldemort come for him and try something.

That was desperate thinking, he knew, serving no purpose except to cater to his need to rant. When Harry straightened he looked into his reflection, thinking about what today meant. He was getting older and certainly felt it with the grief and the knowledge of his destiny weighing him down.

Growling moodily, he shrugged it off and hit the light switch, hoping that any letters referring to his foolishness were mixed with birthday wishes. Sure enough Hedwig had flown into his window sometime in the morning hours (he left the window open whenever he left, just in case) and had brought Pigwidgeon with her, who was hooting at the older owl playfully. On the bed were a few envelopes on top of packages, all addressed to him. The first one was, thankfully, from Ron and he tore into it quickly, needing something to feel better about.

_ Hey Harry,_

_ Happy Birthday, mate! Hope the Muggles haven't driven you completely nuts. Mum's sending along the usual for you so you won't starve and my gift'll be in with hers. Oh, and I'm supposed to tell you to keep inside the house 'cause we're not really sure how far your protection goes. Don't worry. It won't be much longer. We're going to come and get you in a few weeks, as soon as Dad gets back from a mission for the Order. Anyway, Hermione's been begging me not to, but I gotta tell you about this spell she found! Uh-oh. She's coming, bloody nosy if you ask me, trying to make sure I don't tell you. I gotta run. See you in a few days. Stay inside for my sake! Mum's been giving us projects to keep from worrying about you!_

_ Ron_

Harry glanced it over again and wondered what kind of spell Hermione could want kept from him. It would probably be something dangerous or something that could get them into trouble. In other words, something he would really want to learn. He smirked and glanced at the gifts on his bed before picking up the next letter, this one from Hermione.

_ Happy Birthday Harry!_

_ I hope you're doing well. Now I know you've been out of the house, Harry, and I understand you need your space. I honestly do. But it's so very dangerous right now. Professor Dumbledore says it's very important for you to stay near your aunt and uncle's house. You're safest there. Please promise me you'll stay inside this time. Professor Dumbledore has written your uncle already. I hope you like what I got you. I cannot believe how much stuff you can buy that's related to Quidditch! And Harry... Whatever Ron says, don't do it. He's acting sneaky lately and I would hate for him to get you into trouble or worse, hurt. We can't afford to be as reckless as we have been. Not with Voldemort back. Take care of yourself, Harry._

_ Hermione_

He hadn't expected anything less than her fervent wishes that he remain indoors, but it still made him sigh to read it. Still, he couldn't help but smirk at her concern over Ron's activities. He would stay indoors and give her that one, but Ron's spell had him very curious. After all, he couldn't deny his best friend the time to at least hear what he had to say. It didn't mean he would have to _do _anything. Not unless he really _wanted _to.

Still smirking, he started for his gifts.

xxx

**Author: **Ruse angelruse**AT**gmail**DOT**com

**Disclaimer**: Harry and company belong to the wonderful J., whom I thank personally for the deliciousness that is Snape.


	2. Diagon Alley

**Hidden Things  
**Diagon Alley

_Harry becomes involved in a dangerous spell that reveals the frightening truth about Snape and could also give Voldemort his chance to kill him. Alternate Universe - Sixth Year._

xxx

The arrival of the Weasleys was not the traditional fanfare of magical entries, Uncle Vernon's indignant anger or Dudley squirming to escape humiliation and torment. At sometime past noon, some few days before the start of term this year, came a rather polite knock at the front door on Privet Drive that drew Aunt Petunia's attention from a cheesy tabloid magazine she was reading. Harry, expecting a rescue from this place any day now, peeked out the kitchen door just in time to win a glare as she glided to the door, opened it and gave a resigned sigh. The kitchen table where a sleepy and bedraggled looking Dudley had been sitting only moments ago was now vacant.

Without invitation Ron came in and passed her up, heading over and Harry grinned, feeling it brilliant they had come before Uncle Vernon got home from work to yell about it. Hermione smiled cordially at Aunt Petunia, paying little attention to the horrified expression directed back at her, then followed in Ron's footsteps confidently. This left Mr. Weasley on the doorstep, who said as mildly as ever, "Good day to you, Mrs. Dursley. We're here to collect Harry for some school time shopping, if that's all right. We'll keep him afterwards and see him off to the train, of course."

Aunt Petunia leveled Harry a look that said she was glad he was finally going, but also annoyed that he was getting something he invariably wanted. "_Of course_," she mocked curtly, stepping aside, making no pretense about offering to help with Harry's things.

Mr. Weasley entered and smiled at him. "Go now, the three of you, and collect what Harryll need for this year. And be quick! I have something to show you outside."

Ron grinned at this and motioned upstairs, inciting Harry to lead his friends up to his bedroom. A certain warmth he had forgotten seemed to infuse him from being with his friends again. The three of them hadn't been in his room for but a moment before the talking began.

"Oh, Harry, have you been staying inside-"

"He's alive, ain't he-"

"Did you get your O.W.L. results-"

"Oh, forget that. Harry, you should see it-"

"It _is _important, you know-"

"Boring, you mean-"

"Honestly, Ron. Our futures are at stake-"

"Give me a break. Harry, Dad got a new car!" Ron burst, winning the little contest between them.

Harry grinned at the annoyed look Hermoine shot Ron. He wouldn't have stopped them for the world, he was so happy to see them. "Another car?" he asked with a laugh, stuffing a book into his trunk. Hermione moved to the night stand to pick through his letters. "How is your mum handling that?"

Fiddling with Harry's invisibility cloak, Ron shrugged and glanced at the window as if to see it. "Not too bad actually. 'Course this one doesn't fly, see? Dad promises he won't enchant it, but of course you know him. The trunk is already expandable. Mum's none the wiser."

A shower of letters fell into his trunk. Hermione held up his unopened test results with a questioning eyebrow, determined not to let her curiosity be swept aside. "You're going to have to open this, you know. Today. We're going to Diagon Alley and you're going to have to know what books you're going to need this year."

Harry sighed and took it and his basic supply letter from Hogwarts detailing this year's needs from her. He hadn't opened them for a reason. "I know. I know. It's just...I know I failed Potions. There's no way Snape's gonna let me in for the N.E.W.T.s." He pocketed the letters with a sigh and shut the trunk, nearly hitting Ron's fingers. "Sorry." His friend shrugged and plopped the Firebolt down on top, then poised ready to help him carry it downstairs.

"Don't be so pessimistic," replied Hermione, taking Hedwig's cage into her arms. "You never know. _Ron _made it, after all."

Ron rolled his eyes as he helped Harry lug the trunk from the bedroom. Despite himself Harry was surprised by that, but he didn't let on. "Yeah, I made it all right. Just barely I think, too, judging from the nasty way he scratched my O on the paper."

"Maybe he was annoyed you did so well?" Harry offered lightly.

Hermione shook her head, pausing in her playful hooting at Hedwig to say, "Don't be silly, you two. He probably didn't even write the grade himself, you know. How does one scratch a single letter nastily, anyway?"

"Just you look at my results again and you'll see." Ron snorted derisively.

"Oh, you're just paranoid."

Harry shook his head, thankful that by the time they reached the bottom floor his friends had stopped bickering. His good-byes with Aunt Petunia were not lengthy, as usual. Harry merely looked at his aunt, who raised her chin, then turned his back on Privet Drive for another school year. After a few acknowledgments Mr. Weasley fell into stride beside the boys and drew Harry's attention to the street where he saw it.

His jaw dropped. The car wasn't brand new, obviously, and was neither monstrously large, nor unpleasantly small, but it would get the notice of anyone happening along the same street it occupied. He had never in his life seen an automobile so obscenely orange in all his life. Swallowing, Harry threw a look over his shoulder and confirmed his suspicion. Aunt Petunia looked horrified, staring with a pale face and an open mouth from the door. Cars on Privet Drive were usually white, beige or a shade of sedate maroon for the daring. Harry was very grateful that Uncle Vernon was at work just now.

Mr. Weasley beamed in pride. "Isn't she beautiful?" Hermione suppressed a giggle. "That is what Muggles do, isn't it, Harry? They call their vehicles "she" or some such? Can't imagine why, but then, that's a Muggle for you I suppose."

The question drew a groan from Ron, who shook his head. "Mental, that. Of course he's already asked Hermione, but I guess it never hurts to make sure and ask everyone that knows anything about Muggles that happens to be on any street corner." He pursed his lips as they threw Harry's trunk into the back.

Pushing his glasses up, Harry awarded his friend's father a smile. "That's what they do all right. And um...she's...lovely." He thought he did rather well, keeping his face straight. Mr. Weasley certainly looked pleased. After a moment of him fumbling with the keys the four of them settled into the car, Mr. Weasley in the front and the three of them piled into the back seat.

"Molly's with Ginny at Diagon Alley already, Harry. We thought coming this way, incognito as Muggles, would be rather unexpected and therefore somewhat safe, but we're being watched by members of the Order all the same just in case. We'll be heading off to join them now. I hope you have your list."

"Sure," Harry replied and they were off with a bang that made Aunt Petunia scowl from behind the curtain she had taken to watching them from. He smirked when she tossed it shut.

When he turned back he noticed Hermione's rather expectant look and sighed, digging into his pocket for his O.W.L.s. As he tore open the envelope a heavy feeling entered his stomach. Without even thinking his eyes trailed straight to his most worrisome class. Potions. The class that stood between him and his dream of becoming an Auror. He had to look at the section twice. Was this some sort of sick trick? There was no grade for Potions, nothing written at all in the little box where all the other grades were recorded above and below. Fidgeting, he felt another piece of paper behind his scores and brought it up so he could read it.

_ Dear Harry,_

_ Please come and see me concerning your Potions score when you return to the school. Go ahead and purchase the standard texts for sixth year Potions. We will discuss this more fully when you are here._

_ Sincerely,  
Albus Dumbledore_

With a knit brow he handed Hermione the letter and took a look at his other grades, not sure whether to feel reassured or uneasy about the note. The Headmaster seemed hopeful that Harry could continue on in Potions, but he didn't like to think how Snape was going to react if Dumbledore forced him to teach a student that he not only despised, but one that had also fallen below his prerequisite standards. All his other grades were more or less as expected, but nothing else stood in the way of him following his dream. He looked up at Hermione's puzzled expression as she handed the note back. "Well, that's encouraging," she said finally, but seemed puzzled.

Still uncertain how to feel about it, Harry, stuffed the papers back into their envelope and shook his head. He was determined not to let this day go wrong. "I'll worry about it later. What's been happening at the Order? I've been watching the Muggle news and reading through the Daily Prophet, but it hasn't told me very much. I heard there's a serial murderer on the loose in London. Is it...?" He left the question hanging.

Ron glanced up at the rearview mirror before nodding semi-covert-like. His voice dropped to a near whisper. "Yeah. We think it is. They haven't left the Dark Mark in many obvious places yet, but-"

"Just how do you know all this?" Mr. Weasley interrupted, glancing at his son in the mirror. "If you're somehow listening in on Order meetings your mother will have something to say should she find out."

Ron turned a bit pink, coughed and gave his father an earnest look. "Well, see it's not as if we're listening in on official meetings. You know we can't do that, but well, I heard Tonks talking with Lupin and well..." He trailed off, seeming to hope this would satisfy his father.

Smiling gently, Arthur nodded and made a turn onto a busy road. "Yes, well, don't let your mother find out you've been 'accidentally' hearing these things. She worries so."

"'Course, Dad." Ron shrugged at Harry and Hermione, then brightened. "Oh, Harry, last time Professor Dumbledore visited the headquarters I talked to him and asked about you playing Quidditch. He said there wouldn't be a problem! You're coming back, right?"

This news was exciting and some of the weight left his shoulders without his notice. Harry found himself grinning like he hadn't in a long time. Not that he had truly doubted Professor Dumbledore would put him back on the team, but it felt better to hear about it. "You know I wouldn't miss it. Well be losing a few players this year, though. He knit his brow in thought.

Ron bit the inside of his cheek. "Good question. Guess you'll have to have tryouts." He made a face, then batted at Harry for smirking.

They made small talk for the rest of the trip to London. There were moments when he could see it in Hermione's eyes, or to a lesser extent Ron's. They wanted to know how he was coping, but neither of them broached the subject and that was just fine by him. Eventually someone would ask, without doubt, but right now he wanted to pretend everything was normal, for their sakes as well as his. No one needed any extra burdens these days, not with what was going on.

At Diagon Alley they met with Mrs. Weasley and Ginny, who happened to catch them as they were exiting Slug and Jiggers Apothecary. "Oh, Harry, dear!" Mrs. Weasley said warmly, bringing him in for a quick embrace. When she straightened he could see she wasn't about to let his activities over the summer go without a word or two. "You had us quite worried, young man."

"_Mum_," Ron groaned, cocking his head to the side. "Come on. Those Muggles drive him to it, you know. You should have seen what greeted us at the door. Were only lucky that ogre Harry calls uncle wasnt home. No offense," he added to Harry, though his expression suggested he knew none could ever possibly be taken when insulting the Dursleys was involved.

Harry smirked at him, then looked at Mrs. Weasley in genuine apology. "I didn't think. I'm sorry."

Her eyebrow rose slightly as she eyed him for a moment, but a welcoming smile told him all was all right again. "Just promise me you won't find ways to worry me this year. And read your guide to defense! It could help!"

Guide? To defense? He wasn't sure what she was talking about, but he was sure he'd find out. "I'll try," he promised, honestly hoping somehow temptation wouldn't find him this year. It was a dim hope. He smiled when she tried to flatten his hair down.

"Well, let's get to it, shall we?" she said crisply, turning to her husband. Though he was sure they hadn't meant to show it, the exchange between them suggested they had more on their minds that a simple day of shopping. And then something occurred to Harry.

"Mr. Weasley, how come you aren't working today?" he asked.

Arthur gave his wife another look, then smiled softly. "Let us just say I am here for an evening with my family and leave it at that, all right, Harry?"

Harry agreed wordlessly, then turned to Ron for any insights. His friend shook his head and he supposed now was not a good time. "Mum," he beckoned innocently, "can we go into Quality Quidditch Supplies?"

She did not want them to, obviously, probably for their safety, but looked torn. "I'll wait for them right inside," Arthur assured her gently, wandering around the children towards the storefront.

"All right," Molly agreed a little reluctantly, running her eyes along the street. She pursed her lips. "Give me your lists and I'll head over to Flourish and Blotts after a quick stop in Gringotts for Harry. Don't be long. Ginny, come and help me." Ginny looked disappointed, but wasn't directing her gaze towards them, but the Quidditch store instead.

The three of them piled in to the Quidditch supply, leaving Mr. Weasley near the front. He seemed to understand they needed some time to themselves and so didn't push the issue of following them closely, but neither did he allow them out of his sight. "Mum's really worried," Ron explained with a sigh as he ushered the other two over to the Quidditch robes.

"Well, I can't say as I blame her," Hermione added, absently picking at one of them. "This summer wasn't as quiet as last. They think it's only a matter of time before we start hearing of the Mark."

"Yeah, but Lupin said he thought You-Know-Who would start it all off officially with something particularly hideous," Ron countered.

Hermione looked at them gravely. "When he's ready for everyone to know he's here. That doesn't mean he's not doing things now. And besides, that something could happen anywhere at any time, you know. We just need to be careful is all."

"We will," Harry assured her, anxious for the conversation to move on. He looked at Ron. "So, what's with your dad?"

Shrugging, Ron glanced at his father, who was examining a mounted snitch that quite suddenly came to life on him, and said, "He asked for the day off to make sure we were safe. I think they would rather him not hang around the Ministry so much."

"You don't think he'll lose his job?" Harry asked, uneasy with the unease in his friend's expression.

Ron shrugged, then shook his head. "I don't guess so. I mean they _know _You-Know-Who is back. It's not like they can hold anything against Dad. I just think most of them would still rather not be reminded, though."

Harry shared a look with Hermione, then nodded at his best friend. "Well, like you said. The Ministry knows Voldemort," Ron winced at the name, "er, sorry. They know he's back, so they can't hold anything against your father." He took a breath and unconsciously glanced towards Mr. Weasley, watching as he stepped away from the now thankfully dormant snitch. That familiar void taunted his thoughts again. He didn't want any more bad things to happen to his friends.

Mr. Weasley left the snitches and headed on over, cutting short their few moments of privacy. "I hate to usher you out so soon, but Molly isn't too keen on the idea of staying in Diagon Alley all day and for good reason. It's probably best we go about our business and return to the Burrow."

That caught Harry by surprise. He had naturally assumed they would be returning to Grimmauld Place. Ron and Hermione exchanged glances. "Er, Mum thought we should stay out of trouble at the headquarters. And she thought you'd be more comfortable..."

"Yeah," Harry replied a little shortly, then sighed at their faces. "Sorry." He hated everything about going through this; the looks, the special treatment...the pain. But they were only trying to help, so he didn't push the issue. He wasn't honestly sure how he felt about the prospect of returning to Grimmauld Place after all that had happened, anyway. That place was full of memories of Sirius.

The four of them exited the Quidditch supply quietly after that, each left to their own thoughts, but Harry was not so lost that he missed a dark figure on the edge of his vision. He turned his head quick to catch a glimpse of whatever it was only to find the usual sort of passers in his field of vision. That was strange, he thought. He could have sworn he had seen something. _Relax,_he chided himself, feeling silly. He couldn't afford to let a little talk about Voldemort bother him bad enough to start him seeing things around every corner.

"What is it?" Hermione asked, catching his eyes still trailing the denizens of Diagon Alley.

He looked into her concerned expression a little took quickly. "Oh, er...nothing." She didn't seem to be buy it, no matter how pointless he knew this was, so he relented to avoid a fight. "Just thought I saw something is all. I'm sure it was nothing." He hoped that would be the end of it.

Unfortunately that wasn't the case. Mr. Weasley glanced back at him and Harry began to feel a little self-conscious. It hadn't been a single day and already he was starting to feel like they were looking at him as if he were a frightened cat. "What was it, Harry?"

His concern made Harry feel silly for even answering Hermione. "Just a dark robe, really."

Of the three of them only Ron seemed eager to shrug it off, rolling his eyes. "You mean like that one?" He pointed towards an old Witch carrying an owl cage. "Or perhaps that one?" It was a second year wearing his dark Hogwarts robe.

"Funny, Ron," Harry countered tartly, giving him a playful nudge before returning his vision towards Mr. Weasley. "It wasn't anything to worry about. Honestly."

"Yeah," his best friend agreed easily with a cheerful enough confidence to dispel the tension of the moment. He smoothly changed the subject before Harry could feel any worse. "What say we go by Fred and George's, huh? Show Harry around? We can't leave Diagon Alley without going by."

He had forgotten all about Weasleys, Wizarding Wheezes and agreed eagerly. By the look on Arthur's face Harry guessed there was no real chance he would refuse a chance to show off the hard work of his twin sons, no matter what had been said last year after they had left Hogwarts. The humorous pride glinting in his eyes was unmistakable. "All right. Let's go and get your mum first, though. She'll wonder where we've gone if not."

As they entered Flourish and Blotts Harry forgot all about the darkness he had seen in the corner of his eye.

xxx

**Author: **Ruse angelruse**AT**gmail**DOT**com

**Disclaimer**: Harry and company belong to the wonderful J., whom I thank personally for the deliciousness that is Snape.


	3. Blood Trance

**Hidden Things  
**Blood Trance

_Harry becomes involved in a dangerous spell that reveals the frightening truth about Snape and could also give Voldemort his chance to kill him. Alternate Universe - Sixth Year._

xxx

It was a wet, miserable morning when the day finally came to board the train back to Hogwarts. Platform 9 buzzed with complaining children and their equally pensive parents, all trying to avoid the cold rain. Harry and his two friends huddled beneath an overlarge umbrella that Mr. Weasley had gotten a hold of with his spells (one of the few enchanted Muggle items Ron's mother didn't mind), shivering with Ginny, chatting about what classes were going to be like this year. A loud crack of thunder crashed like a bomb went off and Harry smirked at a startled Ron. "Real way to begin the year," his friend groaned, watching as the ground just outside the umbrella's edge was pelted.

Harry glanced up at the black canvas they stood beneath, thankful it had been enchanted to keep even the mist of the rain from beneath it. "At least we're dry."

"Dry," Ron repeated dubiously. "I dunno about you, but traveling through England on a train during a storm doesn't sound very appealing this year. It's like a bad omen, I tell you."

Mrs. Weasley gave him a tap on the shoulder, her face stern. "Don't say such things, dear. Look, it's almost your turn to board. Come along. Keep up." Generally they boarded by themselves, but Harry suspected this year they weren't going to take much for granted where security was concerned. He half wondered if she would board with them, but dismissed it when she stood aside at the doorway. "Be careful, children, and don't do anything dangerous!"

"Don't worry, Mum," Ron groaned, stepping up onto the steps leading in. He gave an apologetic look. "Sorry, mate. Me and Hermione have to go up front with the other prefects again. We'll be back as soon as we can. Save us a seat."

Harry boarded next and nodded with a smile. "Sure thing, Master Prefect. When you're Head Boy d'you suppose you'll get to ride in the engine?"

His friend made a face at him. "Don't you start that."

"Being Head Boy would be an honor for you, Ron," Hermione countered in a long-suffering tone, motioning him on.

Shaking his head, Harry turned towards the back to choose a compartment and stopped dead in his tracks, widening his eyes as they fell upon two dark ones holding his gaze with a certain familiar distaste. He stood against the opening to the back with a familiar, annoyed expression, arms crossed and lips curled. Harry's pulse quickened and a renewed anger that had cooled over the summer began to simmer just beneath the surface. "Mr. Potter," Professor Snape greeted in a deceptively quiet voice.

"What are you doing here?" he asked incredulously, forgetting himself.

Snape's glare darkened, but his voice did not change as he leaned forward in an intimidating manner. "I was not aware you were under any authority to question my whereabouts, but if it will relieve your Gryffindor need to pry so that you might, for once, feel free to attend your own business, then I will tell you. Suffice to say when the Headmaster asks a favor of me I must accommodate him. No matter how much I may disagree. This is called respect. A very foreign idea for you, I understand, but not too terribly difficult."

There was a snicker behind him. Harry looked over his shoulder and saw Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle directly behind him, blocking Ginny from view. He glanced between the group and his teacher, feeling very trapped until Snape stepped aside, clearing the path. Not even looking Snape in the face he stormed by, listening as Malfoy gushed, "Won't you sit with us when I can get away from the other prefects, Professor? We would enjoy your company."

Rolling his eyes, Harry did his best to put as much distance between himself and the four of them as possible, turning only when he was out of earshot so he wouldn't have to hear the sickening noise of the Slytherins sucking up to their Head of House. Ginny pressed on by, looking just as disgusted. Catching sight of him she made a gagging noise, then sighed. "I've been asked to ride with a few of my friends, Harry. You don't mind, do you?"

Did he mind having to ride all alone, knowing Snape was on board, probably goading his three pet pupils into terrible actions? "Er, no. Go on ahead." He smiled and decided a place in the back would suit him. Hopefully Snape would remain near the front so he could exit quickly. Harry threw himself inside the second to last compartment and watched raindrops slide down the window until the door slid open, drawing his attention from the thrilling show. _Don't be Snape, _he thought irritably, not thinking it past the Potions Master to sit with him just to torment him. When he turned his head he was pleasantly relieved.

Neville Longbottom entered, his face a little whiter than usual. He flopped down on the seat across from Harry and complained, "What's Dumbledore thinking, putting Snape on the train? As if we all aren't nervous enough with You-Know-You running around out there. Gave me the worst look as I walked past."

Harry grunted, not surprised. "I was wondering myself why he's here. Not exactly the first bit of Hogwarts I wanted to see." Neville smirked in agreement.

"Don't know, but I just hope he stays up front." The boy shuddered, then inclined his chin a little in question. "How was your summer? To tell the truth I was a bit worried."

Harrys defenses immediately started to rise. Was every face going to bring a painful reminder? He sat up a little stiffly and turned his gaze outside. "It wasn't any worse than usual. I'm getting on." He was determined not to look weak in front of anyone.

Neville shook his head. "I didn't mean, you know, _him_. Well, maybe a bit, but I was talking about You-Know-Who really. Gran kept saying things like, 'Mark my words, they better be watching after that boy and the like, as if she thought he was going to try something with you away from Dumbledore and all. Of course she can put anyone into a right state anyway, never mind Dark Lords running around."

Of course. He sighed at his own lack of insight and nodded, once again looking at his friend. "Yeah, they were watching after me, I guess. I never saw anyone and Vold...You-Know-Who never tried anything."

"That's odd."

Harry knit his brow in thought, murmuring, "Yeah...odd."

xxx

Sometime after the snack cart had passed the sky had darkened for evening, and Ron and Hermione had come back to sit with their friends, Neville got up from the compartment to go and look for Trevor who had managed to give him the slip again. Now that they were alone Harry decided to ask something that had remained forgotten until now. He looked across from him at his red-haired friend as he gulped down a chocolate frog, saying, "So, this spell you wrote me about on my birthday..." He trailed off, seeing Ron's eyes widen in recollection.

That simple statement brought such a vastly annoyed look from Hermione that Harry immediately regretted bringing it up in front of her. "Oh, _Ron_, you _didn't!_"

His friend shrugged and turned his new collector card over in his hand. "I just thought he should hear about it is all."

"But we don't even know if it will work like you're thinking, after all."

"Well, let him decide."

"You're going to get his hopes up and..."

Holding a hand up, forestalling the bickering before it could get too involved, Harry shook his head and rounded a serious look at her. "I can handle at least hearing what Ron has to say. It doesn't mean I have to do whatever it is you don't want me to do. It's just a spell, isn't it?"

She still looked quite cross about it, but relented and sat back with her arms crossed over her chest. "I just don't want you to get hurt searching for...well, just listen. Then you can decide, since _Ronald_ insists."

Harry looked between the two of them, wondering what could possibly be that volatile. Even Ron looked a bit doubtful now, but one pressing look convinced him to go on with what he had started. "Well Hermione was looking through some of the books at...at Grimmauld Place," he said, then paused only for a second, prompted to continue by Harry's impatient expression. Ron continued, "And she ran across a spell." His eyes slid to Hermione's in hope for a more thorough and easy explanation that he didn't have to give.

She took the hint and rolled her eyes. "It's called the _'Blood Trance'_. People have used it in times of great need to show them what's hidden. I'm not sure how it works exactly. The details are sketchy at best, but a few incidents include a woman who used it and saw a vision of her husband after he disappeared, and a young wizard who was able to figure out where his brother had died while hiding a fortune that had been left to them by their parents. There were only a few recorded examples I could find had to do with seeing _people_, and in most cases they were people of immediate concern. Perhaps with study it could be modified, or perhaps..."

Ron nudged her and shook his head, then looked across the way. "I just thought if there's any chance that...that...well, Sirius..." He didn't seem eager to continue on.

A sudden pit opened in the middle of Harry's stomach. Drawing in air seemed a bit harder as he followed Ron's words to conclusion. "But he's..."

Hermione frowned at Ron, likely having predicted this. Eager to defend himself, however, his best friend shook his head and went on. "Well, you know your father had to have had parents. Maybe they had relatives too, you know. Who knows who you might find with this."

Despite all the implications Harry found himself interested, though it was a wary interest that harbored a fear of hoping and losing again. He looked at Hermione. "How does it work? Did the book explain?"

She shook her head softly. "Not in detail. From what I could tell these trances happened in places that were particularly meaningful to either the subject of the visions or the person that entered the trace. Probably a place where they inhabited. I don't know if the spell is restricted by blood or just feelings of closeness or even people at all. I don't even know why it's called _'Blood Trance'_, though the name isn't very encouraging. It showed the users visions from the past as well as the present, but didn't say how one could control the outcome. I don't even know if there are any more texts out there on the subject. The book wasn't very scientific, to say the least. The information may even be skewed to the author's liking." They all knew by experience that some Wizards could very well print what wasn't true in their own books.

"But we could try the library," he said neutrally, though his thoughts were already traveling the possibilities. He noticed her wary expression. "Maybe we could find a way to use it against Voldemort. Spy on him."

"I don't know, Harry. If it were that easy then Professor Dumbledore would probably already be using it," she countered in a skeptical voice, though he could tell she was afraid it was already too late to turn away from this now.

He didn't say much to try and get her to change her mind. Just a soft, "Please, Hermione," made her defenses fall.

She rolled her eyes in resignation. "I don't suppose looking would hurt, but I'm _not _going to help you do anything dangerous, Harry. For your own good!"

That was enough. He shared an eager smile with Ron and was just about to reply when the train came to a halt and the compartment door opened. Neville hurried in and shut it quickly, throwing himself next to Harry. "Professor Snape's in a mood. Wandering around the front, hissing about the station."

The three of them exchanged glances before Hermione pressed, "What about the station?"

Neville shrugged uncomfortably. "Something about the lights not being on or some such. I wouldn't go up there, though. Said he'd make my life a living hell this year if I didn't get back to my compartment and stay here until he got things straightened out. As if his classes aren't already hell enough. He wants you prefects to keep everyone in their seats, though."

"This doesn't sound good," she replied, looking at Harry. He knew that look and felt she was justified, for he _was _going to go up front with them and see what was going on. There was no way he was letting his friends go it alone.

"Right. I'm coming too," he said, standing with Ron.

Predictably, Hermione sighed, but didn't argue, opening the door and heading out. Malfoy was already prowling the hall, sneering at their appearance. He jutted his chin out towards Harry with malice in his eyes. "Get back in your compartment, Potty. Maybe if you stay there none of your friends will get killed this time."

Immediately Harry's wand found his hand and was leveled at his enemy, ready to hurl a curse. Malfoy was poised as well, but neither of them got the chance. "Potter!" Snape growled, staring at both of them. He stretched his hand forward and motioned him to come closer, speaking only when Harry hesitated. "If you value your peace of mind in my class this year you will do as I say. Now come along!"

Jerking himself away from Malfoy, angry and a little uneasy, Harry followed after the quick striding Potions Master, all the way up front where he was told rather harshly to remain by the door where Snape could see if he happened to be causing trouble. And then the teacher disappeared once more, exiting the train with a schooled expression, but Harry could swear he saw a flicker of concern. He moved to a window and peered out, watching the dark robed figure approach the darkness of the station cautiously, his wand lit.

It wasn't long before Snape had the torches outside going again and as more light pressed back the shadows Harry began to see it. Blood on the concrete, on the station walls, everywhere. On the ground was drawn a Dark Mark just above a message written in blood that made his breath catch. "What is it?" Hermione asked him, coming to his side. She gasped when he pointed at the dark letters.

_THE DOG WON'T BE THE LAST TO DIE POTTER_

Harry swallowed, feeling vaguely ill as his eyes grazed along a half dozen smaller messages, all saying, 'DIE POTTER', decorating the walls of the station. And then it occurred to him. Pushing away from the window he rushed down the steps and shoved the door open, entering the fog and drizzle without any mind to his own safety as he called, "Hagrid!" His friend was always here to collect the first years. He didn't even want to consider why he wasn't seeing the half giant anywhere now.

Snape whipped around from a place he had been standing near the grass, hissing, "Potter, get back in that train!" as he stormed back towards him angrily.

"But Hagrid!" Harry growled, trying to sidestep the Potions Master. "I have to find him!"

Professor Snape blocked him with such a hard look that he stopped, furious, eyes daring the other to keep him from searching for his friend. In that same quiet voice of forced calm Snape began to try to reason with him, a tactic he very rarely employed because he would rather bully his way through situations. "Do you understand, you fool, who has been here? Do you understand that they could _still be here!_ Whatever has happened to Hagrid has happened, and putting yourself in danger to see it will not change it." His eyes were alight with a dangerous warning to obey.

"Harry, please," Hermione called from behind, sounding frightened and that more than anything was what stopped Harry from pursuing the matter further. Though it galled him to admit it, his teacher was right.

Snape's eyes swept behind him briefly. "You better listen to your girlfriend, Potter. Leave the searching to me."

Enraged and helpless, Harry turned and kicked the side of the train, but remained near the door. He didn't look up at Hermione, couldn't because he knew he was going to see fear and pity. That was the last thing he wanted to see right now, so he kept his eyes on the ground, listening keenly for anything. The minutes dragged on until at last Hermione whispered his name and pointed.

Harry followed her gaze towards Snape where he knelt in the misty grassy. He swallowed, wondering if he dared hope his friend had survived an encounter with the Death Eaters. When he saw a rather large form raggedly make a way into a sitting position he could have cried out in relief. He wanted to run out there, but knew Snape would throw a fit if he did. Hermione's hand clenched in his shoulder. "Poor Hagrid. But he's alive!"

Hagrid and Snape talked a bit before the black robed teacher helped the larger up. Under any other circumstances Harry might have laughed watching Snape try to aid Hagrid's faulty steps, but the setting staved off any humor. As the half giant neared Harry moved away from the train, not even aware that the Potions Master was watching him. "Hagrid! Are you all right?"

He didn't look all right. There was a large cut on his forehead that dripped blood down his face. Hagrid nodded wearily. "I was tryin' ter keep those ruddy Death Eaters from killin' everythin in sight, but they was too fast fer me, throwin' their stunning spells an' the like. I..." He stopped, his eyes catching sight of the station. "I..."

"You're lucky they didn't take care to murder you on the spot," Snape finished for him, running a hand through his hair, looking tired now. His eyes trailed to Harry again, veiled in anger, but he said nothing.

"There was five of 'em," Hagrid countered in half-hearted defense. "An' like I said..." He trailed off and Harry really felt for his friend, knowing what he must be thinking.

The Potions Master straightened and surveyed the train, noticing that the children were starting to congregate near the front. "Five is more than enough to stop even you. There is nothing you could have done." He motioned for the students to exit the train, then waited as they obeyed. When most of them were out, all staring in horror at the blood all around them, he began issuing orders. "Prefects, I want you to take charge of your houses and get them to the school. Youre your wits about you, eyes and ears focused on your surroundings, including above. I will bring up the rear. The quicker we get there, the sooner the danger is over. Now move!"

Ron and Hermione began to usher the Gryffindors towards the front of what would be a long procession of frightened children. The older children shielded the younger ones in the center of their groups. It shook Harry inside to see how close the danger was and to realize Voldemort knew precisely how to frighten him with the threat on his friends.

Fear seized him deep within, whispering of possible traps ahead or other terrors. He made towards the front, feeling an obligation to be the first one in danger should anything happen between here and the castle, but a hand fell on his shoulder, gripping his shirt and jerking him roughly back. "_You_, Mr. Potter, will remain with me," Snape told him firmly, glowering down with an air of smug superiority.

"You don't think that I had anything to do with this?" Harry asked incredulously, frustrated that he was being prevented from doing the only bit of good he thought he could in this situation.

Snape ignored his tone and remained infuriatingly collected. "Don't be a fool. You were very intent on looking for Hagrid just a little bit ago. I should think you would still be eager to aid him now that we know he is alive. Or is your brand of help only available when the task ahead is easy?"

"Of course I want to help," he snapped, angry that he had allowed himself to be lured into Snapes little insult. Annoyed and still troubled, he flanked Hagrid's right while Snape took the left side.

"Don' worry. They'll pay fer what they did," Hagrid said darkly to him.

It didn't make him feel encouraged.

xxx

**Author: **Ruse angelruse**AT**gmail**DOT**com

**Disclaimer**: Harry and company belong to the wonderful J., whom I thank personally for the deliciousness that is Snape.


	4. A Few Revelations

**Hidden Things  
**A Few Revelations

_Harry becomes involved in a dangerous spell that reveals the frightening truth about Snape and could also give Voldemort his chance to kill him. Alternate Universe - Sixth Year._

xxx

The opening feast had been a solemn event this year, or so he had heard. He hadn't been there, having gone with Hagrid to the Hospital Wing where he had spent a great deal of time waiting and worrying alone until Ron and Hermione could make it. At least Snape had made a quick exit to report to Dumbledore instead of hanging around to aggravate him. Now, after plodding through his first day back, he was sitting in the Headmaster's office. Harry thought about the feast, wondering about the Sorting Song as he absently tapped his foot against the floor.

Hagrid had turned out a little worse for the wear, but would make a full recovery. The attack had been swift, but not fatal, probably because the Death Eaters wanted to make their message clear and quick so they could escape. Even still Harry hadn't slept well last night and was suffering for it now. The day was closing fast and he was beginning to tire. He yawned expansively, but sat up straight when he heard footsteps approach. Professor Dumbledore was alone and sat down, looking grave and every bit as weary as Harry felt, if not more. He had not attended the feast either, but had gone out with Snape to Hogsmeade to see how the town itself had fared after the attack. Harry hadn't heard if the actual village had been hit or not.

"I know you must be very concerned," Dumbledore said quietly, gazing across the desk through his half-moon spectacles.

Seeing no reason to answer any other way than the truth, Harry nodded and traced imaginary patterns on the wooden surface between them with his eyes. "I just never thought it would be this close to Hogwarts," he ventured, feeling foolish afterwards. But he couldn't stop venting his thoughts, no matter how obvious. Last night had rattled him. "I mean Hagrid could have ended up just like..." He couldn't go on.

Dumbledore agreed with a gentle gesture that made him appear almost frail. "Death is a truth you have seen often enough for me not to have to address it, except to say you will learn how to accept it better as time goes on."

"As more and more of my friends end up dead, you mean," Harry concluded bitterly, stifling another yawn. He leaned back in his chair and sighed. "What if I don't want to accept it?"

The Headmaster's response was not exactly what he expected, but not entirely far from what Harry could imagine hearing. "I will always be here for you, Harry, no matter your need. But that choice I must leave up to you." Those wise eyes of his seemed to hold a curiosity and hope Harry wasn't prepared for. He thought again of his destiny, of this so-called prophecy. And again he pushed it aside, unwilling to explore the frightening possibilities. It was so much easier to pretend there was nothing terrible ahead of him. He looked up, sensing Dumbledore was watching him as if seeing his thoughts turn within. But whatever he thought, Dumbledore remained silent on it. "To put your mind at rest I dispel a few rumors that have been floating around. The Death Eaters did _not_ venture into Hogsmeade after their exploits at the station. No one that did not venture away from Hogsmeade was harmed. There will be no trips to the village this year, however, as you may have already guessed."

Harry shook his head, running a hand through his dark hair. "Because of me. Because they're out to get _me_."

"No, Harry, because of Voldemort. You know this."

"But if Voldemort wasn't after me then-"

"He would be after me. Or the new Minister. Or any number of other targets, until at long last he had the world molded to his vision of perfection. No Muggles, no Muggle-borns." Dumbledore watched him compassionately, but with a note of stern will that his pupil understand. "Harry, Voldemort's terror does not stop with you. Do not burden yourself with more blame than you have earned."

It was the truth, but stubbornly Harry clung to at least part of his guilt, unable to absolve himself completely. He nodded and decided to pursue the other reason he was here. "You wanted to see me about my Potions O.W.L.?"

Some of the weight seemed to lift from the professor's shoulders as they turned to a more mundane discussion, but Harry had the feeling this wouldn't be the last they would speak of Voldemort this year. Dumbledore nodded and removed a parchment from his desk which he gave to Harry. It was a report detailing the examiner's thoughts on his Potions O.W.L. Harry read it with a sick feeling. "_'Did very well, considering. Grade Level E.'_ E for Exceeds Expectations." He looked across the desk at Dumbledore.

The older man nodded, but the corners of his lips were tilted slightly. "Yes, Harry. As the report further reads, you came very close to achieving an O. Close enough that I was able to convince Professor Snape to give you another try. Understanding the stress you were under last year he said he would allow you to attend class and after some study, create a potion of his choosing to show your knowledge of practical application. But you must study hard and on top of your new homework, for if you do not perform to his standards he will expel you from his class. I am certain that he will inform you of the date he wishes you to retake it by the time you have your first class."

Harry groaned. "He probably hates me even more now."

A smile tugged Dumbledore's lips further. "Professor Snape doesn't hate you. There are many reasons why he behaves the way he does, most of which are his own affair. Try to keep the peace between you two this year, hmm? It may serve you more than retaliation."

"I'll try," Harry responded dubiously, drawing a small chuckle from the man across from him. Despite the turmoil within it seemed to help ease his mood. He ventured a question. "Professor, why _did _you send Sn..._Professor_ Snape on the train with us?"

"Because of what occurred yesterday." Harry knit his brow in confusion. "Or rather, because I feared anything could happen and wanted someone I trusted there to handle it. Professor Snape is quite adept at defending against the Dark Arts. I, unfortunately, could not be spared yesterday, or I would have gone myself and seeing as our Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher has not yet arrived, I thought him the fitting choice."

He raised his brow in interest, wondering who would be teaching them this year. Whoever it was, it _had _to be better than Umbridge. "Um, Professor, who _is _our new Defense teacher? It isn't someone from the Ministry, is it?"

To his relief the Headmaster shook his head. "No, Harry. The Ministry has turned full control back over to me. I gather they're a bit embarrassed by last years affair and are afraid I will not lend my aid should they require it. As you can see this leaves me with a little extra leeway this year. You should be pleased to know I have asked Remus Lupin to reprise his role as teacher here at Hogwarts. He has agreed to return and should arrive within the week."

He _was _pleased. Very pleased to have a familiar and friendly face around for the year. But more questions sprung from Dumbledore's answer. "I thought Professor Lupin was concerned about the parents writing in? And what's keeping him from returning now?"

"The parents of our students will have, of course, as they have always had, the choice of removing their children from Hogwarts and transferring them elsewhere. It is my hope that many will trust my judgment in this matter. As for Professor Lupin's fears, well, we are living in a time that does not afford us the luxury of catering to our fears. I have cleared his return with the Ministry and they have agreed to allow it under the arrangement that during his transformations he is kept well guarded. A place has been secured for such times. You needn't concern yourself further with the matter.

"As to why he has not returned yet, I required a certain task from him at the end of summer. I am certain he will return as expected. You needn't concern yourself with that either. Until an announcement is made that period in your schedule will be free for your own use. If you have no further questions, then I should think you have some sleeping to catch up on." Dumbledore smiled gently as Harry sat up straighter.

He nodded, feeling the conversation drawn to a close. "No, I don't. Thank you, Professor. Goodnight."

As he exited the familiar office he remembered the events at the end of last year with heaviness. He wasn't angry anymore. Not really. But he couldn't help but feel their relationship had changed somewhat since the row between them. Whether or not it could ever be the same as it had been he did not know, but he missed the trust he had once so easily placed in the Headmaster. He knew inside that Dumbledore had only the best intentions, after all. He was a man with hard choices on him. But thinking of him came with pain as well as admiration.

The halls of Hogwarts were deserted. His trip was quick and uneventful, and when he entered the Gryffindor common room he was just about resigned to go to bed when he spotted Ron eyeing him from a chair near the fire. Hermione had a book open on her lap, already getting into the studying spirit it seemed. Harry sank down beside her quietly, noticing the questioning look they both gave him. "I guess I'm in as far as Potions goes," he told them, unable to contain a small grin.

"All right!" Ron said with an equal to his expression. He kicked at the couch leg and jarred it. "Nothing to worry about, eh?"

"Well, not immediately, at least." He made a face. "I have to make a potion of Snape's choosing, though. Sort of a brush-up on my skills. If I fail he can expel me."

Hermione looked up from her book briefly. "Well, then you had better concentrate hard this year. On Potions _and _on not letting him get to you."

Ron snorted at that. "You just know that greasy git's gonna make it as hard as he can when it comes right down to it."

"All the more reason for Harry to ignore him," she countered, then sighed, giving Harry a strangely weighing look.

"What?"

She didn't say anything immediately. She didn't have to. Ron nodded down towards the book in her lap. "We found a little something on the _Blood Trance_ in the restricted section. McGonagall lets Hermione do anything." He made a sour face. "Thought we'd go look so we'd have something to cheer you up with when you got back."

Hermione frowned at their friend, then looked again to Harry. "I'm not really sure you're going to be cheered, however. It's a very complex application of spells, concentration and a potion on top of it. A complex potion, I might add."

"Yeah, but you're brilliant with potions," Ron replied with a confident shrug. She frowned at him. "Well, you are."

Harry brushed on past that for the time being. "What about the result? What does all of this do?"

Pursing her lips, going into what Ron privately referred to as 'teacher mode', Hermione returned her attention to the texts before her. "According to this the spell gives the caster visions of things. Not merely people, but events, items, most anything that has come in contact with the caster. Physical contact, mind you. One must brew the potion, a draught that will put you in a kind of trance state. You recite the spell and concentrate on what you seek. A memory, perhaps, or a person. But here is where it gets tricky. The words of the spell change based on what it is you're trying to see. For example; _Ostendo__ Cattus_ could show me Crookshanks as a kitten if I recited the words, then concentrated on the idea of him at a young age, but saying _Ostendo__ Paternus_ and concentrating on that same thing just won't work. Well, it might show me Crookshanks' father, anyway. Maybe. It takes a lot of concentration and even then things may not turn out how you hope."

He shared a look with Ron, then back at her. "And the potions ingredients? I don't suppose we could avoid Snape's office this year?"

"I could do it," Ron offered, looking less than eager, but willing. "You've got enough to worry about after all and well, as much as Snape hates me..."

"Yeah, he hates me more," Harry concluded for him.

Hermione looked at them seriously. "Well, we _would _only need one, assuming he has it on hand. The rest, while complex, can be obtained. And of course there's the main ingredient." Her eyes slid to Harry.

"What ingredient is that?" He wasn't sure he liked how uncomfortable she looked.

"Well, it's the reason it's called _Blood Trance_, Harry. It needs a bit of your blood."

Ron looked disgusted by that. "What? You mean he has to drink it? His own blood?" Unfortunately Hermione nodded.

Harry cleared his throat. "And just what does 'a bit' mean."

Her answer did little to relieve his uneasiness. "A little less than a tablespoon." She glanced at the book. "It doesn't sound like a lot, but a simple prick of the finger isn't going to give you much more than a few drops. You would probably have to deliberately cut yourself. And as much as I would like to, I can't help you brew it. If any part of me, even a hair or skin cells, taints the mixture it might not work properly."

"Well, what word could I use for Sirius?" he asked her, then hurried along to avoid any sorry looks, "Or Voldemort for that matter?"

She looked through what appeared to be a list of examples thoughtfully. "_Amicus_, perhaps, for Sirius, or _Prope-Paternus_. I would have to study to be sure. Perhaps _Adversarius_for Voldemort. I'm not entirely sure. The good news is one brewing of the trance potion could last through a good number of uses. You only require one drink per trance. That gives you a fair margin of error where the actual incantation is concerned."

"How soon could we begin on this?" He watched her face as she made a few calculations.

"Well, assuming Ron can acquire the hellebore we need, brewing can begin within a few days. It takes a full week and a half to fully complete the potion, which would give me time to work on the incantations. I would guess the best case scenario is two weeks, assuming all goes well." Her eyes flitted to Ron. "Are you up for sneaking into Snape's office?"

Nervously, he nodded and gulped, then looked to Harry. "Er, don't suppose I could borrow your invisibility cloak for this. If I need it? I'm not sure Snape'll fall for another diversion."

Harry nodded. "Of course. Thanks, Ron. I can do it, though, if you want."

His friend shook his head more certainly than his eyes let on. "No, I said I would and I will. Just don't let him kill me if he finds out." He gave an abrupt little laugh that ended as quickly as it had begun.

"Right," Hermione said crisply, moving along with the plan despite her misgivings, it seemed. Harry gave her a thankful look that made her sigh. "If we can use this to achieve anything, I'll take that chance. Besides, it doesn't seem that dangerous. What's a little trance, after all?" She looked at Ron. "You _could _use the cloak and the Marauder's Map together. Stay close to his office and listen for the password, then use it after he leaves. It's a little more hit or miss than I would like, but it seems the safest plan by far. A diversion requires a great deal of confidence and speed."

"Thanks," Ron replied dryly, but looked comforted by the safety of her plan. "I'll watch out tomorrow for any chances. Harry?"

Harry motioned towards the dorms. "They're all yours. Are you sure you want to go through with this?"

In the end his friend wasn't going to be put off by his own fears, reminding Harry of what Dumbledore had said. Ron nodded with a resolved expression. "I'm sure."

"I'm going to expect you to study this potion with me," Hermione warned firmly, daring him with her eyes to find an excuse out of it.

He appreciated Ron's offer and her time enough to put the same effort into it, even if it was just study. "Tomorrow, first chance we get," he assured her, then stood up. "I think I'll head off to bed now. Ron, if I'm there when you get your chance I'll help you. Keep watch or something."

Ron stood up, joining him. "Sure thing, mate. I'd appreciate it. Night, Hermione."

"Goodnight."

They traversed the stairs to their dorms quietly. Harry felt a certain sense of purpose now in knowing he was doing something to try and best Voldemort. And, too, there was the possibility of seeing anything that had to do with Sirius. He told himself it was pointless, that Sirius was gone and no matter what scheme he mixed himself into that fact wasn't going to change, but he knew deep down that he was going to try this _Blood Trance_ and concentrate on Sirius as well as Voldemort. He had to, if only to prove to himself once and for all that Sirius wasn't coming back.

Peeling off his robes and wiggling into his nightclothes, Harry took a moment to watch Ron as he climbed into bed, waved goodnight and turned over to sleep. The message the Death Eaters had left at the station at Hogsmeade still rang out in his thoughts, at night more than any other time. He couldn't let anything happen to his friends, no matter what he had to do to prevent it. Swimming in worries and confused emotions, Harry climbed into bed and stared across the room at a patch of moonlight shining on the wall. He had a feeling tonight wasn't going to be any better for him as far as sleep was concerned.

xxx

**Author: **Ruse angelruse**AT**gmail**DOT**com

**Disclaimer**: Harry and company belong to the wonderful J., whom I thank personally for the deliciousness that is Snape.


	5. Dare

**Hidden Things  
**Dare  
_  
Harry becomes involved in a dangerous spell that reveals the frightening truth about Snape and could also give Voldemort his chance to kill him. Alternate Universe - Sixth Year._

xxx

"Harry, wake up, you git!"

Harry opened his eyes abruptly, staring at a fuzzy form topped off with a flash of unmistakably red hair. For a moment he couldn't think of anything beyond the fact that he was impossibly tired and that it was becoming uncomfortable to breathe with the blanket draped over his nose. A creamy blur approached and landed on his shoulder roughly, shaking him, and he groaned, hitting the night stand with his hand. The wing of his glasses jabbed his palm. "What time is it?" he asked through a yawn, sitting up and putting them on his nose. He watched Ron struggle with his robe.

"It's breakfast time. By the time we get there it'll be over if you don't get a move on." His friend tossed his Gryffindor robe at him. "We've slept in."

Yawning again, Harry got up and peeled his nightclothes off, tossing them on the bed without any care for neatness. He fished for his uniform wearily and clothed himself, then ran a comb through his hair, all in precious silence. He wasn't sure he was up for talking _or _listening right this minute. Once ready he grabbed his stuff and joined his friend at the stairs quickly as his stomach rumbled for its morning fix. Despite his mounting hunger, however, he mourned having to leave his bed. Another hour of sleep wouldn't have hurt at all.

"Honestly, if you don't do something about your sleep you won't survive the year, you know? I'm sure Madam Pomfrey has something that can fix you right up."

He made a face at his friend, but knew he was right. These restless nights were going to be the end of his dreams of being an Auror if nothing else.

They could hear the sounds of chatter a good ways away as they approached the Great Hall for breakfast. Harry half listened as Ron went on about Double Potions today, the difficulty of this year's work and the probability that Snape's perfectionism would positively be the straw that broke the camel's back. They were late for the morning meal, which meant any important announcements had already been made and the post had already come. Briefly he wondered if perhaps Professor Lupin had arrived to cause such a ruckus among the students, but dismissed it, thinking they were probably on about the tragedy at Hogsmeade again. He heard it around every corner; this student telling of what they saw, another claiming to have come close to the blood, or discussing Harry himself or stories passed down from their parents about Voldemort and his Death Eaters. Each time he heard about it he was annoyed by how frivolous their voices sounded, as if this were some game or freak show.

Perhaps he was being unfair, he decided, coming to the doors with his friend. He knew there was good reason for Hogsmeade to trouble him so personally and not the others. But when they entered and eyes began finding him, he couldn't help but sigh inwardly. Harry pretended he hadn't noticed and marched over to his usual place where Hermione was already finished with her breakfast. The expression she greeted them with told him something had happened and it wasn't going to please him. "You look...tired, Harry," she commented worriedly.

"I'm fine. So what's everyone on about this time?" he asked with a measure of resignation in his voice.

Hermione held up a familiar paper. "Remember my little ban on Rita Skeeter? Well, it's up and she's writing again."

Harry groaned audibly. "Don't tell me she's writing about me again."

"It isn't what you think," she warned him gravely. He shared her gaze, torn between taking the Daily Prophet from her hands and leaving it be so he could pretend for another hour or so that bad news wasn't upon him. His eyes wandered to the High Table where he saw Professor Dumbledore's grave, watching eyes. And he wasn't the only one. Professor McGonagall glanced in his direction and Snape's glaring face was directed at him unabashedly. He barely registered her saying, "It's much worse."

They were all waiting for something, for a reaction probably. He looked back and took the paper. "I suppose I may as well get on with it. Give them all a right good show."

"Oh, Harry..."

He unfolded the paper and took a look at the first page, seeing his picture alongside an image of a child he did not recognize. The article read:

** THE DARK MARK RETURNS**  
_ He Who Must Not Be Named Strikes Muggles _

Harry swallowed as his eyes fell upon the lines depicting the events that had taken place at the train station. But as bad as that was, it wasn't all. There written before his eyes was a tale of a family of Muggles that had been tortured and slain in their beds in the night. The Muggle parents and siblings of a young Ravenclaw first year had been brutalized almost beyond recognition. A glance at the Ravenclaw table revealed a group of sorrowed faces. He looked at Hermione, who shook her head.

"There's more, Harry." Her tone made him wonder what could be worse.

He soon found out, reading through and reaching the end of the article. "_What?_" he burst, dropping the paper as if the paper had somehow burned his fingers. It felt as if his breath was being denied him. He was almost afraid to look at Dumbledore again.

Ron still didn't understand, shaking his head. "What is it? What's wrong?"

Seeing Harry wasn't in a state to speak of it, Hermione picked the paper up and said quietly, "They left the Dark Mark at Samantha Redding's house. They left it so there could be no mistake who had been there, Ron. And they left a message. Voldemort is calling Harry out to come and face him. He's going to savage a Muggle-born's family every week until he gives in."

"But...but that's...that's..." Ron didn't seem to have the words for it.

Harry stared at his plate, too shocked to think straight. After being told his destiny against the Dark Lord Harry had entertained a thought or two on how the meeting might take place. He had imagined dark alleyways or a dramatic showdown at Diagon Alley, or Privet Drive or Grimmauld Place perhaps. When he had been trained. When he was ready and stood a good chance of defeating his enemy. Never had he dreamed of Voldemort calling him out so boldly. Not like this. Not so soon. He wasn't ready. Not nearly ready enough to face the end all, the kill or be killed. Spells and curses flashed through his thoughts, all of them feeling nowhere near useful enough for ending the life of such a powerful Wizard as the one he was fated to face.

His appetite was gone. The chatter around him seemed overly loud and the stares too much to bear. Would they be waiting for him to show his terror? Were they waiting for him to leave the school and face his destiny? What would Dumbledore want him to do? He didn't want to face Voldemort yet, but how could he make that choice at the expense of others?

"Look, I need to get out of here. I need to think," he mumbled, then got up from the table without waiting for a reply from either of them.

He didn't look up at the High Table or even answer when Malfoy hissed, "Running away, Potter? He'll find you no matter where you go."

From behind him Ron growled, "Shut up, Malfoy," and then followed, Hermione close at his heels. The three of them exited the Great Hall alone, though Harry didn't doubt Professor Dumbledore would want to speak with him shortly.

He stopped and paced back towards the door, motioning in frustration. "They're expecting me to go out and...and..."

Hermione pressed his hand down to his side and shook her head. "_No one_ is expecting that, Harry. No one."

"Oh, I can think of one that is. No way Snape wants me to live through this," he replied bitterly, pacing away again, only to turn back again.

His two friends exchanged glances, caming to him. Ron stood right in front of him and shrugged. "Who bloody _cares _what Snape wants? He can go face You-Know-Who himself for all we care, right?"

"I'm sure even he doesn't expect that, anyway," Hermione added seriously. "No one is going to make you go and face Voldemort."

Harry rounded on her angrily. "No, but what does that make me if I don't go? They're all going to think I'm a coward and more than that, I'll feel like one!" He ran his hand through his hair and turned away from her, searching himself for answers he knew were not there. "He's gonna kill me. I don't know what to do. I don't...I don't know what to do."

Taking his shoulder, she turned him back around and gripped his arms as if to keep him grounded. "Stop panicking. You're not going to do anything right now except speak with Professor Dumbledore."

"Yeah, mate, calm down," Ron agreed.

The three of them looked up as the doors opened. Professor Dumbledore approached them with a very serious expression. "Harry, your first hour is already excused. You will come with me at once."

Neither Hermione nor Ron looked as though they wanted to part ways here and now, but a firm look from their Headmaster dissolved any chance that he would have the company of his two trusted friends. And honestly, he wasn't sure how he felt about that. He wanted the comfort that came with being in their presence, but also wanted to hide his fear from them. Giving them what little reassurance he could muster, he quietly turned away from them and followed the strides of Professor Dumbledore, following along the familiar path towards the staff room.

"Harry, I know what you must be thinking," he said gently, glancing to where Harry had sidled up to his left.

Harry grunted nervously. "How can you? I don't even know what to think about this. I don't know what to do. I didn't think..." He trailed off distractedly, following the Headmaster up to the second floor.

They came to the door to the staff room, where the Headmaster stopped to give the password to the stone gargoyles flanking the entrance. He ushered Harry in and entered, closing them inside, and took a seat. Harry did not feel like sitting down, but found himself moving anyway when he was motioned to follow suit. Dumbledore fixed him with a thoughtful look. "I feel I know you well enough to be able to assume you are considering answering Voldemort's call. Am I correct?"

"Well," Harry floundered, not sure whether to feel annoyed or foolish. He settled somewhere in between and nodded. "How could I not consider it? People's lives are at stake." His eyes widened as he realized something. "Hermione's parents!"

"Miss Granger's parents have already been informed of the danger they are in. I knew her being your friend would put them in danger anyway, and thus took steps to protect them before this unfortunate incident. The same steps will be taken to protect the others." He exhaled expansively and Harry caught a glimpse of the weight on the older man's shoulders through his crystal eyes. "Harry, I do not know when you are fated to face him. The prophecy may have meant this year or next year or even longer. I can guess, however, when the time comes you will know it. Do you know it now? Without doubt do you feel it is time?"

Harry hadn't expected this. He had waited to be ordered not to go or something similar, but now the choice was his. He swallowed heavily and considered the circumstances, sifting through emotions and facts and personal truths. "I know that I can't be a coward about this. I don't want to run away from this, even if that means..." He stopped and looked up.

Dumbledore nodded knowingly. "Of course you don't, Harry. I would expect nothing less of you. But I am not asking about how you feel about the situation as a whole. I want to know if you know the time is now. I am not asking for a logical answer, but an intuitive one."

He didn't understand fully what Dumbledore meant. Searching himself, he shook his head. "I just don't know." He waited for more.

"Then I counsel you not to do anything rash, Harry. Not until you are certain. We will do all that we can to protect those that are in danger, but I want you to remember what I said to you. The blame is Voldemort's, not yours. If you surrendered to him today then in all probability he would kill you and move on to the Muggle-borns anyway. You will not get very far in this battle if you are unprepared."

They shared a moment of silence, Harry considering the words of his Headmaster seriously. His thoughts battled between logic and intuition. Could he truly go about this that way, waiting for some sort of sign? "What if I never _know _the time has come?" he whispered, half to himself.

Professor Dumbledore laid a hand on his, but it didn't even feel like it was there. Harry stared at the lines of age there, following them with his eyes numbly as Dumbledore said, "You will, Harry. You will."

xxx

Potions was an abysmal event. The Slytherins kept sharing glances and snickering amongst themselves, occasionally allowing their whispers to carry just far enough that Harry could hear. Malfoy sat at his desk looking like a great snake that had just devoured a helpless mouse. Just as Professor Snape entered with his usual dark flourish, he looked at his fellow house mates and said, "Not to worry about the Dark Lord. Potter will take care of him for us. Or if not, at least he won't be coming back. When are you leaving, anyway? Parties to plan, you understand."

Even has Harry's fist balled beneath the desk Hermione's hand on his shoulder stayed any reaction. "Don't pay any attention to him, Harry."

Malfoy grunted disgustedly. "What's the matter, Mudblood? Are you so ashamed of your family that you actually want Potter to let them be slaughtered?"

"You better watch what you say, Malfoy," Ron growled.

"Or what? Are you gonna-"

"Settle down," Snape interrupted easily, sinking down behind his desk. "It isn't polite to speak of events which Potter cannot attend."

"If he cares about being polite then I'll kiss Bulstrode," Ron breathed into Harry's ear, making him snort.

Their teacher continued on with a dangerous glare. "Turn to page two hundred, twenty-three of your texts. We will be discussing the Salveo Serum, an intermediate level antidote to one of the more dangerous potions known to us. Can anyone tell me what the Salveo Serum is chiefly used to remedy? Or is a demonstration in order?" His eyes slid over Harry briefly.

Despite his snide command for attention, Snape wasn't all that strict about enforcing silence with the Slytherins, of course. Every now and again Malfoy would hurt an insult or make an insinuating whisper towards Harry, goading him on to reply, while Snape watched discreetly from his desk. It was an effort, but he didn't let it get to him, focusing on making his serum, which didn't turn out half bad, considering. He bottled a sample and took it up for inspection, expecting it wouldn't be good enough.

Snape's hand snaked over from the page he had just turned, snatching the vial away quickly, which he set down near the others already turned in. His dark eyes glittered as he looked up, ordering in his quiet way, "You will wait at your desk at the end of class."

Groaning inwardly and giving his antidote a grave glance, Harry turned away and made for his desk. "What are you so glum about?" Ron asked as other students approached Snape. "He couldn't possibly give you a zero this time."

"He wants me to stay after class. Probably finally going to poison me since he didn't get his chance before." He stretched back in his chair and glowered at the ceiling. "At least I won't have to put up with him anymore."

Hermione rolled her eyes and packed her books away. "Don't be silly. He probably wants to discuss your O.W.L., you know. I don't think he would actually poison you."

Ron nudged him. "Or if he did, at least he wouldn't let you die. I don't think, anyway." He made a show of considering.

"Thank you for that stunningly useless attempt to cheer me up," he grunted back, watching as the two of them stood. The students began piling out of the classroom, happily able to leave while he had to remain.

"We'll wait for you outside," Ron said, shouldering his bag. "If it starts looking like he's gonna poison you, you can drink my assignment. I think I got it right."

Harry shook his head with a dry look, muttering, "Thanks," as his friends left him.

He turned and waited while Snape examined a few vials of the antidote, though Harry had a suspicion this was merely a show designed to annoy him. Instead of allowing it to bother him, he studied the man before him openly, wondering if he would walk out of this room without being ill from being forced to test his antidote. The pensive lines around the Potions Master's mouth seemed a little more pronounced and Harry thought his enemy looked a bit weary, even. _Shame he's not too tired to be a pain_, he thought, watching as Snape opened a drawer in his desk and removed a bit of parchment. He took up his quill and Harry rolled his eyes.

Still, he wondered what was causing Snape to look so drawn. He, Ron and Hermione had speculated that perhaps he had returned to spy on the Death Eaters (or to report to them, as Ron stubbornly suspected). It had been idle talk, but now he really wondered. If it were true then Snape was in a great deal of danger, assuming it was Dumbledore and not Voldemort that truly commanded his loyalty.

Lost in thought, Harry had not noticed when Snape caught his gaze until the teacher hissed, "Get up here, Potter." With a degree of reluctance he pushed his chair back, shouldered his bag and approached, wordlessly awaiting whatever Snape would say. The paper he had been writing on was shoved into his hand impatiently. "Professor Dumbledore has explained to you why you are allowed to attend my classes?" Harry nodded and Snape leaned back in his chair, folding his hands before him. "I argued against your admittance, but of course famous Harry Potter wants to be an Auror and we cannot allow him to fail. It was also suggested that considering that you are a prominent target of the Dark Lord, teaching you the more advanced potions could help save your life. Assuming, of course, you can understand what I will attempt to teach you. I do not want you here, however, Potter."

His hackles rising, Harry glared, but refrained from any biting comments. "Why are you telling me this, _sir?_" he asked in a clipped tone.

Snape sat forward quickly, leaning towards him with the deepest of loathing etched on his face. "I am telling you this so that you will understand the level of quality I am going to demand of you!" His black eyes glittered back and forth between Harry's. "Give me a reason to expel you from this class, Potter."

Harry cocked his head, shaking it gently, his expression resolved. "I can't do that."

The tension hung between them for a moment and then Snape's expression became unreadable as he sat back. His voice was once again quiet. "On that paper is written the name of an antidote slightly more complex than the one we studied today. You have until Halloween to find instructions on how to brew it, create the potion and submit it to me for analysis. Don't worry. The Headmaster would not allow me to make your test too difficult, so this minor task shouldn't tax your fragile senses too much. Fail in this and you are out of my class." He waved a hand in dismissal.

Clutching the paper tightly, Harry turned and exited quickly, eager to be away from Snape before he said something he would regret. He was relieved to see Ron and Hermione still waiting for him. "Well?" Ron asked, looking him over.

Harry handed him the paper and sighed, "Not dead yet."

xxx

**Author: **Ruse angelruse**AT**gmail**DOT**com

**Disclaimer**: Harry and company belong to the wonderful J., whom I thank personally for the deliciousness that is Snape.


	6. Marauding

**Hidden Things  
**Marauding  
_  
Harry becomes involved in a dangerous spell that reveals the frightening truth about Snape and could also give Voldemort his chance to kill him. Alternate Universe - Sixth Year._

xxx

Some days later, as Harry was on his way to the Great Hall for a very brief lunch (Hermione had insisted since the beginning on stringent study for not just one, but both of the potions he had to learn), he was treated to a familiar form at the main entrance to the castle that stopped him dead in his tracks. Suitcases in hands, dressed in his generally worn attire, Remus Lupin entered Hogwarts and smiled when his eyes fell upon Harry. "Professor!" Harry called, rushing forward to greet his friend. He was very relieved to see he had made it back from whatever task Dumbledore had given to him.

"Hello, Harry. How has the school year been treating you so far, hmm?" the older man asked with a smile, setting his luggage down for the moment. His expression betrayed a measure of relief as well, it seemed.

Harry repressed the urge to complain about the things on his mind, shrugging them off. "Not too bad, so far. The classes are a bit more difficult this year."

Lupin nodded and chuckled lightly. "Pre-N.E.W.T. year is supposed to be more difficult, but just wait until your seventh. The pressure is high and the level of knowledge required is difficult, but then when it is all over with you'll actually begin to miss it all. I know I did."

He wasn't so sure about missing it _all_, but he reflected that he hadn't given too much thought to what would happen after school. Oh, he knew he wanted to be an Auror, of course, but that still seemed so far away. Still, he reckoned Lupin knew by experience. Harry nodded thoughtfully, then pressed on with what had kept him curious ever since he had learned who would be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts. "So, where were you, anyway? Was it dangerous?"

The Defense teacher shook his head, making the younger frown, recognizing that look. "It isn't something I can talk about, Harry. You needn't worry about it, though. I'm safe and sound, as you can see."

"So then it _was _dangerous," Harry concluded.

Lupin sighed. "I know you're not one to be fooled. We all do dangerous things for that which we believe in. To tell the truth, I was half worried I would return only to find you had left the school. I'm very glad to see you didn't do anything rash over that article in the Prophet, Harry, though I'll guess it wasn't for lack of trying." He raised a questioning eyebrow.

Harry shrugged a little nervously. He had not tried anything rash, but neither had he forgotten the challenge that had been issued by his enemy and now again his teacher's comments made him doubt his choice to wait for the so-called 'right time' to act. Even Lupin seemed to have an unwitting expectation of him to act now. Would he think Harry weak if he knew he hadn't tried running away? "Well, Professor Dumbledore told me I should wait, that Voldemort would not stop killing just because I surrendered."

"And right he is," the professor agreed, oblivious to the turmoil within Harry that he had unknowingly brought back to the surface. "I know what's been said about this prophecy, but even if it is true, you should be properly trained in any event. That is largely why I agreed to return. I want to be sure you're learning properly this year." There was a note of distaste in his tone that anyone's voice carried when they thought of Dolores Umbridge.

Forcing a smile, Harry nodded once. "I appreciate that and Im glad you came back. You and Moody were the best teachers we've had. Of course, our Moody was a crazed Death Eater at the time he was here, so I suppose that sort of leaves you in the lead."

Lupin's laugh helped alleviate some of the tension he felt. He was reminded of just why he was so glad to have this man had returned to play a significant role in his schooling. His wolfish teacher had a way of disarming him unlike just about anyone else he could name, except perhaps Dumbledore. "That's gratifying to know. I'm glad you were here to greet me, Harry, but if you'll excuse me, I have to meet with the Headmaster just now. And I think Ron would like a word with you besides." He pointed.

Harry turned and watched as Ron jumped at being noticed by the door to the dining hall, folding a familiar parchment their teacher had a hand in making, trying to look nonchalant about it. He smiled a little nervously and waved at the professor. "Er, hello, Professor Lupin. Glad to see you. Harry, that thing we were gonna do...I think we should do it now." He shot the teacher an almost pleading look.

"Since I'm not on official teaching duty, I suppose I needn't investigate further," Lupin relented, looking between them before resting his gaze on Harry. "As long as you promise what you're doing isn't dangerous to you or to anyone else."

The boys exchanged looks, then painted innocent smiles on their faces. "We aren't doing anything dangerous," Harry said sincerely.

"You're not going to curse anyone, are you?" Lupin prodded mildly. "Or interfere with their studies?" Both Harry and Ron shook their heads. "Try not to get into trouble then. I'll catch up with you both later." Taking his suitcases back into hand, he gave them a departing nod, then disappeared up the stairs.

Harry rushed over to Ron. "It's probably too late, you know. How close was Snape to his office?"

Ron pulled out the Marauder's Map, murmuring, "Just gotten up from the High Table. Haven't seen him exit yet." They saw his name on the map paused at the Slytherin table near Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle. Quite suddenly the name began to move towards the exit of the dining hall.

"He's coming!" Harry gasped, shoving Ron towards the nearby broom closet before he could speak. Fumbling with their bags, the map and the door knob, they managed to secret away within just as the door to the Great Hall swung open.

"Bloody hell," his best friend breathed, shoved up against him in the small space they were hiding in.

Harry laboriously wrestled his wand out from his pocket and breathed, "_Lumos_," as he tried to edge Ron sideways a little to make more room. The darkness faded away enough for him to see Snape head towards the dungeon stairs on the map. "Do you even have the cloak on you?"

Struggling a bit, Ron managed to free an arm and shove it into his bag. He pulled out the soft cloth and for lack of a better place to rest it, let it drape over the map, muttering, "Sorry."

"Fine, fine," Harry went on, ignoring that for the moment, brushing it back so he could keep an eye on the dungeon. Snape was already descending the stairs. "We'd better go now."

Ron sounded relieved as he groaned, "Right," and opened the broom closet door. They nearly toppled out of the dark little room. Harry diffused the light on his wand and wrapped himself in the invisibility cloak, inviting Ron to join him.

Together they crept towards the dungeon door, opened it and entered, startling a first year Hufflepuff that seemed to be fleeing Snape's wrath. She squealed and didn't pursue why the door had opened for her without her efforts. Harry and Ron made their way a bit clumsily down the stairs, eyeing the map all the while, and slowed as they near their Potions Professor.

Snape's strides were quick, but they couldn't afford to match him for fear of their own steps being heard. They stopped when they came to the corridor containing the doors to both the Potions classroom and Snape's office. When the Potions Master drew the door to his class open Harry repressed a sigh, then brightened again as Snape obviously recalled something else that needed doing. He let the door fall shut and moved further towards his office door, looking to either side to make sure he was alone. Both of them watched and waited, Ron's hot breath trickling down Harry's shoulder uncomfortably, neither able to make a sound.

And what they had been waiting for happened. "_Carcerportus_," Snape murmured softly, then entered into his office as the doors gave way for him. The door banged shut with a startling volume.

"Right," Ron breathed, pointing at the map. "Let's go wait for him to leave by the kitchens. I've worked up a little diversion that might draw him away for a few minutes."

"A diversion?"" Harry repeated, raising his eyebrow as they slipped down the corridor near the kitchen and dropped their school bags.

Looking proud of himself, his friend nodded once. "I had Seamus tell Peeves he wouldn't report what he did on the fifth floor if he would cause a little trouble today in the potions lab. Just to annoy Snape, of course. Peeves isn't particularly discreet about who he annoys if he's given the choice, now, is he? Except for the Bloody Baron, of course. Seems he was quite eager to be given another assignment, going on, admiring Fred and George for asking him to keep it up last year.

"But the lab isn't that far away. We won't have much time."

Ron shrugged. "I didn't say it was a brilliant diversion. Besides, I know right where the hellebore is. I saw it in his office yesterday when he was discussing my detention. Wanted to nab some then, too, but he didn't have any reason to leave."

"You already have a detention this year?"

"I earned it on purpose by making a face at him yesterday so I could get a good look at the jars in there." He did an instant replay that made Harry chuckle as he imagined what Snape must have looked like in response.

"I'm sorry I missed that. When was this?"

"During dinner he walked by," Ron replied with a shrug. "Looked him square in the face, did it and he said to follow him. He asked what I thought I was doing and I said I didn't mean to direct it at him. Said I thought he was Malfoy before I'd fully turned around. He gave me a detention for being cheeky. It was a shame you and Hermione left so soon to study. Kinda funny, seeing his face. Well, funny until he asked me to follow him, that is."

Giving his friend a fond look, Harry clapped him on the shoulder and said, "I think Fred and George left a little bit of themselves behind." The red-head grinned.

And then they heard it, clear down the hall, drawing them both to attention. There was a crash so loud it made the boys wince at one another, then Peeves screaming forcibly, "Oops! I hope _that _wasn't important! What if slimy, slippery Snape finds out?" They grinned and watched the Marauder's Map for any signs of movement. Nothing yet. Another crash filled the air, followed by the poltergeist's hysterical laughter. "That one had to be important!"

Snape's name on the map moved at a decidedly aggravated rate, so Harry wrapped the cloak around them hurriedly and dragged Ron to the end of the hall just as the dark figure of their Potions Master slammed his office door open and stalked further down the dungeon towards the potions lab. They crept as quickly as they dare until they reached his office where Ron slipped out of the cloak and said, "Watch the hall for me. I'll be only a moment."

Nervously Harry draped himself further into the cloak, keeping an eye on the map and nowhere else. He smirked, watching Snape flit through the room as if trying to capture the offensive poltergeist that was now singing loudly in a voice that grated on the nerves, "_He thinks he's fast, but Peeves is faster! I'm smarter than the Potions Master! His nose is bent and his hair's so slick! His students think he's a great big-_" Harry giggled when instead of finishing the rhyme off properly, the poltergeist blew a great big raspberry and broke something glass.

The seconds melted away uncomfortably, though, and Ron was not as quick as he would have liked. And then something terrible happened. Snape burst from the chamber where Peeves had wreaked havoc before Harry could warn his friend. Gulping, he looked up in horror as the dark robed teacher stormed closer and closer. "Ron," he croaked helplessly through the door his foot held open, but couldn't dare call any louder. This was it. They were dead. Snape looked absolutely furious because of what Peeves had done. Quickly Harry let the office door go, holding his breath as it shut with a minor clang.

Snape did not seem to notice as he came to where Harry stood, flattened against the wall, preparing himself for the worst. A low snarl emitted from him as he stomped on past, moving towards the stairs. Harry felt he would fall to the floor in weak-kneed relief as Snape disappeared upwards. Keeping the Marauder's Map where he could see it if he needed, Harry hissed the password and opened the door. Ron was nowhere to be seen. This was the last thing he needed after the scare he had just endured. "Where _are _you!" he growled.

The door to a closet nearby burst open and Ron exited with a pale face, holding up the hellebore. "He moved the jar! When you let that door go I knew Snape must be coming back, so I hid. Could you imagine if he'd found me in there? Bloody hell! Where is he now, anyway?"

Harry glanced at the map and shook his head. "He's hanging around Filch's office. We'd better get up there and slip up the stairs before we're late for class. Come on!" He opened the cloak and invited Ron in, then hurried them both out of the office as rapidly as possible, stopping only to reclaim their belongings from the corridor where they had stashed them. He couldn't shake the tension he felt until they were once again on the ground level, breathing the free air, having gotten away with their contraband. On the stairs leading upwards he threw off the cloak and stuffed it into his bag, sharing a weary look with Ron. "That was close."

Ron ran a hand through his red, slightly disheveled from the adventure hair. "You're not kidding me! I don't ever want to do _that _again."

About halfway up the stairs Harry smiled at his friend, taking the hellebore as his friend handed it over. Now that the scare was over, the deed so mercifully completed, Harry felt at liberty to return his curiosity to more mundane things. "What was it Peeves did on the fifth floor, anyway?"

"Oh, that. He filled the tub in the Prefect's Bathroom with just about all the bubbles, soap and shampoo in the room, causing a huge slippery mess Filch was livid about. Too bad Malfoy didn't go in, fall and break his ruddy neck, huh? Think youre ready to brew this up tonight?

Harry shrugged. After Quidditch tryouts tonight. You coming?

Ron emphatically nodded. D'you know Ginny's trying out for Chaser?"

Harry raised his eyebrows.

xxx

At dinner Professor Snape seemed to be in a worse mood than usual. Harry and Ron snickered, supposing Peeves was the reason why. The dark Potions Master stalked towards the High Table with such a look on his face that not even the Slytherins dared to stop him for a chat. Hermione gave them a slightly disproving look, but Harry knew underneath that thin veneer of by-the-book disproval there was a smidgeon of amusement lurking. He had seen the corners of her lips twitch when they regaled her with the tale of their lunchtime adventure.

None of them spoke of it there at the Gryffindor table with all their class mates buzzing around, but each held a look of anticipation for what would begin tonight. As soon as they had each finished their supper, all three of them exited the Great Hall together. "Where are you gonna brew this, Harry? Not sure our dorms are really the place for it," Ron commented as they began up the stairs.

He looked between them. "I have my stuff set up in the secret pass to Hogsmeade, the one behind the statue of the witch on the third floor. After Malfoy found the Room of Requirement last year I thought it might not be the safest place to leave anything." They stopped there at the third floor and he motioned them on. "I don't want you getting into any trouble for being out after hours. I've got the cloak and the map. That should be enough for me to make it back to the dorms when I've got the potion brewing."

Hermione pursed her lips. "Are you sure you don't need me there to help?"

"I'm sure. You wrote the directions for me, after all," he replied dryly.

"All right, all right. Let us know how it went. We'll wait up in the common room for you." They gave him a parting look, then continued on upwards.

Harry watched them go, then darted towards the statue of the humpbacked witch, eager to get this started. Inside the secret passage, after lighting his wand, he found the ingredients and the cauldron he had borrowed left untouched, waiting for him to begin. He let his bag slide to the floor and sank to his knees, lighting a fire beneath the cauldron. Hermione's instructions were explicit and very easy to follow, thankfully, but when he came to adding the last ingredient, he paused.

Oh, Harry wasn't afraid of a little pain, of course. He had endured enough of it to shrug off a little cut, but the thing was he had never deliberately done anything of the sort before and felt a little strange going about it now. Removing his penknife from his pocket, he looked at his hand and the tablespoon lying on the floor, breathing, "Just do it, Harry." He was half tempted to close his eyes when he brought the blade to his palm.

He groaned as the sharp edge penetrated his skin, opening up the flesh and allowing his life's blood to ooze to the surface. Wincing, he lifted the spoon and held it to his hand, watching the wound drip into it. It took a few moments and a few squeezes to fill the spoon nearly completely to the sides, and when it was done he was grateful. "_Incendio_," he whispered, sprinkling the concoction with his blood a few drops at a time. The liquid bubbled angrily, then calmed to a simmer as he applied a healing salve to his hand.

It was done. Now all he had to do was wait ten days, then it would be complete and he could peek into the mysteries if all went well. Gathering his things and wrapping the invisibility cloak around his shoulders, he whispered, "_Lumos_," scouted for anyone lurking the halls, then exited the secret passage when he saw the pathway clear. His mind was free to wander now that the worst was over, so he thought about what he would do once then potion was ready. The first night he was going to look for Sirius, that was certain. If there was any chance he could see anything new, be it a memory of his Godfather's, an event of his past or something else, he had to devote the first try to him.

Voldemort, on the other hand, was another matter. He was both eager to find a lead in the war against the Dark Lord and afraid that lead might force him to make a choice he did not want to make just yet. And also there was the chance that somehow Voldemort would be clued in to what Harry was doing. They shared a strange, complex connection that no one was certain what the extent of it was. The possibility that he could be seen, felt or found out some other way was enough to make him cautious and at least wait until he understood what it felt like to be under the _Blood Trance_.

As he passed the sixth floor he again thought of his encounter with Lupin and the feeling of guilt in knowledge that his remaining at Hogwarts was putting Muggle-borns in danger. _I know what's been said about this prophecy, but even if it is true, you should be properly trained in any event_, Lupin had said. His friend was right, of course. Harry felt glad of Professor Lupin's return, but also somewhat pressured to put on a more brave face than he felt up to feeling inside.

At the top of the stairs on the seventh floor it occurred to Harry that with Lupin here, however, there was no pressing need for the DA meetings, for undoubtedly the professor would know to cover subjects that would aid them practically. He was free to leave his burden in anothers hands this year, but even as his feet carried him towards the tower and the dorms, his eyes trailed in the general direction of the Room of Requirement. He might not have to teach the other students now, but doing nothing felt like a cage. At least if he practiced on his own he would feel he was accomplishing something. And, too, a part of him wanted his own training to remain private. He didn't want to share his fear with the others. The possibilities swam through his thoughts as he climbed into bed to go to sleep.

xxx

**Author: **Ruse angelruse**AT**gmail**DOT**com

**Disclaimer**: Harry and company belong to the wonderful J., whom I thank personally for the deliciousness that is Snape.

**A/N:** _  
Carcer = Latin for Prison, Jail, Dungeon. Portus (porta) = Latin for door, gate. In this case, Prison Door. *chuckle*  
Incendio - _to set fire to

Concerning the Potions Lab - Not sure how canon that is, but I've added it in based on an entry at the Harry Potter Lexicon concerning "Dungeon Five" where a third year plastered the ceiling with frog brains in HP: Chamber of Secrets. See the Harry Potter Lexicon - Hogwarts Inside for a description.


	7. Spiral

**Hidden Things  
**Saturday Spiral__

Harry becomes involved in a dangerous spell that reveals the frightening truth about Snape and could also give Voldemort his chance to kill him. Alternate Universe - Sixth Year.

xxx

A week and a half seemed to fly by, what with all the studying they were being forced to do. Each and every afternoon after class was spent in the library searching for the instructions on how to make Harry's O.W.L. retake potion, which was no easy task apparently. It was now Saturday and they were still searching. After having glanced through just about every book on poisons, herbs and medicines he had finally given in and approached Madam Pince for the location of what he needed. As it turned out she knew exactly where to find that information and told him it was available in the restricted section.

Upon reflection now, Harry decided it was rather thick of him to have expected any more help from her. He had stood there at the desk waiting for her to lead him back there to get it. After a few minutes of this Madam Pince had given him a very stern look and a promise he wouldn't get that book without written permission from the Potions Master himself. Harry had turned on his heel then, muttering, Leave it to Snape to make me run around in circles, as he motioned his friends on to accompany him to the dungeon, which was where they were heading just now.

The dungeon was empty of their Potions teacher, so they had decided on asking someone else when they found him on the first floor, exiting the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom rapidly. He scowled when it became apparent that he was the target of their interest. Harry stepped in front of him there in the hall, determined to get this over with as quickly as possible. "Professor, could I get a written permission slip to check out a book of antidotes from the restricted section in the library? It's for my O.W.L. potion." He tried to make his voice sound as neutral as possible.

For a moment he considered Snape wouldn't do it, for his eyes black sparkled with more contempt now than before he had asked. "I understand you have much to worry about," he responded with a deceptively easy tone, nodding almost too reasonably. "Your school work must seem impossibly difficult this year, especially considering your lack of intellect. So much pressure on poor little Harry Potter."

"Yes, _sir_, loads of pressure," Harry replied in a low, tested tone.

Snape's lips curled into a sneer. "Tut tut, Potter. Remember to whom you are speaking. Still, I suppose I shouldn't be surprised it took you this long to figure out where the information you needed was. After all it is _you_ I am dealing with." He reached into his billowy robe and removed a small piece of parchment, thrusting it at him. Apparently he had been waiting all along for this moment. "I trust you will have your potion complete by the deadline?"

Harry nodded with a forced calm. "Before the deadline, sir." He turned and rolled his eyes at his friends, who followed him away from Snape quickly.

"I hope Peeves has another go at him," Ron commented, elbowing Harry with a snort. Harry could think of very little Snape deserved more. "Now there's a pair that deserve each other, except for Peeves and Umbridge, of course. Dunno who really deserves Peeves worse, actually."

"Yeah," Harry hissed, still smarting from having to deal with all this on a beautiful Saturday, when he could be practicing Quidditch with Ron or something else that was, key word, relaxing. Snape, Malfoy, Voldemort. Their faces taunted his thoughts.

Hermione had taken to responding to these little outbursts head on, trying to keep him focused on what was important, and she did not fail this time. "Don't let things bother you so much, Harry. You've had that same severe look on your face ever since we picked you up and-"

"And you're gonna end up like Snape himself," Ron interrupted with a playful shiver, mirroring Harry's pensive expression, then wiped it off his face when his friend didn't laugh. "Just playing."

Frowning at having been interrupted, Hermoine continued, "If you don't loosen up you're going to explode at someone and I'd rather it not be either of us _or _someone that could get you into trouble. That's what Snape wants, anyway. Youre going to allow him to goad you into a trap."

Annoyed, Harry was half tempted to give her a look, but internally he had to concede that she was right. He didn't want to repeat the beginning of last year and be at odds with everyone he loved. "Sorry," he murmured, giving her an apologetic gaze. "I guess you're right. I knowyoure right.

Her sympathetic little smile made him feel a little guilty. "Of course I'm right. What do you say we go visit Hagrid before picking up that book? He's been let out of the Hospital Wing today. I saw him heading towards his hut earlier.

That bit of news brightened his outlook a bit. Work had kept him from visiting the Hospital Wing too often. He nodded eagerly and the three of them tore out of the castle quickly, heading for the courtyard and on out onto the grounds. The day was sunny and warm, the kind of day you could forget your troubles in. They rushed up to Hagrid's to find him eyeballing the pumpkin patch with a speculative stare. "Oh, hello. I was wonderin' if you three would be up fer a visit today. All righ', Harry?" he asked.

Harry nodded and looked his large friend over. "What about you? We've been wondering when you would be back."

"We thought it would be a bit sooner," Ron added thoughtfully.

Hagrid went pink and Harry privately guessed what might be on his mind. "Well, apparen'ly, I ain't as young as I used ter be. An' then there's Madam Pomfrey ter consider. She's one as won't let ye outta 'er sight 'til she's good an' sure yer healed up. An'...well, that's about it, ter tell ye the truth."

The half-giant's reaction seemed a bit too suspicious for that to be all there was to it and Hermione had a very sly smile on her face besides. Ron caught Harry's eye and he shook his head almost imperceptibly, warning him not to ask right now. Ron left it alone and turned back to their friend quickly. "Well, as long as you're feeling better then that's what's important, right?"

"Er, yeah," Hagrid agreed with a somewhat relieved expression.

Hopping up on the fence around the pumpkins to sit, Ron then asked a question that made the large gamekeeper forget the troubles he had acquired from the Death Eater attack. "So, any updates on Grawp?" Harry had assumed that Professor Dumbledore would not allow Hagrid to keep his giant half-brother on the school grounds, which was why he was surprised to see his friend beaming happily.

"Oh, if only ye could see 'im," he gushed, gazing at the Forbidden Forest with a fondness that startled the three students, for it could only mean that the giant was within, so perilously close to the school. Hagrid grinned, mistaking their wide eyes for eagerness. "But ye can' and that's that. There'll be no wanderin' off school grounds this year. Too dangerous. Way too dangerous. But Grawpy's doin' so well! 'e don't hardly rough me up no more, not seriously that is. An' 'e asks about ye, Hermione. I reckon 'e's gone and got himself a crush, but ye don' have ter pay it any mind. Yer still a bit young an' all."

Ron was fighting to keep a straight face, which threatened Harry's composure as well. Her eyes were a bit wild and her lips quivered into a small smile. "Really, now? Imagine that. I'm, um...flattered?"

Hagrid grinned at her. "Yeah, I told him ye would be, but that he wasn't ter try comin' ter see ye or nothin' what would get ye inter trouble. An' 'e understands this isn' really the time fer romance an' that. Maybe when yer both a bit more grown up, eh?" His large hand clapped her on the shoulder as she gave a nervous laugh that sounded to Harry more like a squeak. Privately Harry wondered if Hagrid wasnt just trying to tease Hermione, but with him and dangerous creaturse one could never be certain. "Anyways, I thought ter get ol' Remus down here ter help me teach 'im some better manners, but I reckon 'e needs a bit of time after that vampire. Creepy lot, them."

The three of them looked at each other in surprise. They had not been able to get anything out of their Defense teacher about where he had gone at the end of summer. Harry cocked his head and looked up at Hagrid casually. "Yeah, that sure was something. Er, where was it he met that vampire again?"

His large friend leaned over conspiringly. "Well, ye see when that vampire sent Dumbledore that letter..." The three hung on his every word, a signal that the half-giant had seen far too many times to miss. Hagrid put his hands on his hips, glancing between them. "Now I don' s'pose Remus already told you this story, now did 'e?"

Harry fidgeted a little guiltily. "Well, now that you mention it, he didn't exactly tell me. You, Ron?" His best friend shook his head.

"That's a bit sneaky of ye ter try an' trick me like that, Harry," Hagrid chided.

He fidgeted as Hagrid peered down, eyebrow raised. "I'm sorry, Hagrid. It's just no one tells us anything. We're your friends too, and Professor Lupin's. We worry about you just as much as anyone else, you know. We just want to know what's happening with you when you go on these missions."

The half-giant nodded knowingly. "I s'pose yer right, at that. I'm sure Lupin an' Dumbledore too, fer that matter, just don' want ye ter worry 'bout things that ain't yers ter worry over, 's all. Understand, Harry, when yer fightin' someone like You-Know-Who there's gonna be risks all the time. Now don't you go tellin' Professor Lupin I told ye, but see this vampire sent Dumbledore a letter this summer askin' fer somethin' in exchange fer some information on You-Know-Who's activities with 'is kind. Dumbledore thought Lupin was the best one fer the job, seein' as how 'e knew the country an' knew how ter deal with vampires. So 'e went an' that was that."

"Was it dangerous at all?" Harry pressed, imagining his friend wandering through dark streets, wand at the ready and garlic in his pocket.

Hagrid shrugged. "Not as dangerous as ye might be thinkin', but neither is it a good idea ter go messin' around with the older ones. They like their privacy. 'Specially now, what with You-Know-Who on the loose. Now I want ye ter promise me ye won' go tellin' anyone, all right? Won' help ye none ter do it, an' it might make 'im mad at both of us fer no good reason."

"We promise," Hermione assured him with a sincerity that settled the matter for not just her, but the boys as well. "Thank you for putting your trust in us." Harry looked at her gratefully for knowing what to say to smooth things over. Their large friend smiled after that, all forgotten. She turned to Harry. "We should be going. You've got that potion to worry about. Who knows how long it will take to brew."

"Goin' already, are ye?" Hagrid sighed, glancing towards the castle. "Shame ter miss such a pretty day."

Harry groaned in resignation, but nodded, knowing if he failed Potions because he wanted to enjoy a pretty day he would never forgive himself. "I have a potion for Snape due soon, so I want to make sure he doesn't send Malfoy or someone to check out the book I need. Thanks, Hagrid, for telling us what you did. We won't say a word."

Ron hopped down from the fence and grinned at Hagrid. "And say hello to Grawp for us, all right?" He nudged Harry as they began towards the castle. "Especially for Hermy, huh?"

"Hush up," she ordered, but Harry saw her nervously shoot a glance towards the Forbidden Forest.

"Hey, uh, you guys, what was Hagrid trying to hide anyway? About his stay with Madam Pomfrey? He was acting a bit strange and you two were trying not to laugh, so..." he trailed off as he hopped over a stray rock on the ground. He turned to walk backwards so he could see both of them. Picking up the rear, Harry kicked at the same rock and smirked, waiting for Hermione to explain to Ron what had been funny back there.

She looked at Ron with a completely straight face. "Oh, that. When Harry and Professor Snape were helping him up towards the castle that first night he sort of lost his balance and sat back onto a Gooseberry bush." The corners of her lips twitched as Ron raised his eyebrows. "They're sort of spiny, you know?"

xxx

That night, after starting his potion for his O.W.L. up in the dorms and leaving it, Harry and his friends stole away into the night to the secret passage where the potion for the _Blood Trance_ was waiting, finished by now. Narrowly avoiding Professor McGonagall, the three of them ducked through the halls on the third floor, coming to the statue of the humpbacked witch and entering the pass together. Everything was as it should be. Harry knelt down by the cauldron, noticing the charm he had cast had doused the heat beneath it at the appropriate time. The liquid inside was a bubbling, deep, bloody color which made him swallow back the sudden urge to gag.

Hermione held up a good sized glass flask, uncorking it so it could be filled and holding it out. Harry lifted the ladle out of the thick mixture and spooned some in, watching as it ran like syrup into the container. Ron made a face as he watched. "That's disgusting!"

After a moment the flask was full, leaving a bit in the bottom of the cauldron that seemed to dare Harry to taste it. He licked his lips and sniffed the potion, pulling away immediately. It smelled sharp and metallic like. But there was no going back. "Well, I suppose it's now or never," he said, almost wishing it would be never.

"You're going to try and see Sirius, aren't you?" she asked quietly, watching his face and no doubt cataloguing the flicker of emotion he hadn't wanted to let pass. He nodded without saying anything. "All right. I think I've worked out a few incantations, but this first try I want you to just say his name. Swallow and say _Ostendo__ Sirius,_ then wait. Concentrate on him as your Godfather and we'll see where that leads you. This may require a bit of fine tuning though, so don't be discouraged if it doesn't work right the first time."

"Right." Harry held up the spoon he had used to catch his blood the previous night, his eyes following it into the cauldron as it dipped into the potion. He felt nervous, almost afraid of it working and showing him something he did not want to see, or it not working and him wondering forever. But he knew he had to see this through after all the trouble they had gone to. He lifted the spoon to his mouth, held his nose and gulped it all down at once. It tasted as bad as it smelled, causing him to twist his face into a grimace. He managed to look at Hermione for confirmation that the small swallow was enough for the trance to work. Mercifully, she nodded.

The effect was gradual. First his body started to feel awkward, as if he were off balance. Harry lifted his arm to look at his hand curiously, watching as it blurred before his eyes. And then quite suddenly the passage began to spin, his friends along with it. He started to lose track of where he was and what he was doing. _Sirius_, he had to remind himself, but then groped once more for a purpose that seemed to slip through his fingers. "Harry?" Ron prodded at him, sounding very far away.

Harry became aware of hands on his shoulders, but try as he might, he just couldn't answer his friend or speak at all for that matter. He felt he would retch and closed a hand over his mouth to prevent it. His eyelids drooped shut without any effort, obscuring his surroundings before he understood what was going on, making him feel afraid and blind. It felt like a disorienting nightmare that was dragging him helplessly down into its depths.

"I can't...I can't," he groaned raggedly, or was it merely his own mind calling out for help? He could no longer tell the difference between real and unreal as images floated through his thoughts. The floor was gone to these new eyes, replaced by the stars, making him feel light and sick. The much too bright halls of Hogwarts bled into the disheveled rooms of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, then back again. He saw a shadow move around a corner and wanted to chase after it, but felt so nauseated that he couldn't get up to follow. "Sirius?" he whispered, then groaned as a wave of dizziness swept his concentration away. Everything melted and whirled.

Reality teased at his senses. He could feel arms around him and his legs moving, could hear Hermione whispering something about a map, but he wasn't able to pull himself together enough to understand fully what was going on. His limbs felt impossibly heavy and clumsy, and his mind was fuzzy, but he forced his eyes open, trying to break out of the trance state. "We have to get him to the Hospital Wing," Hermione was saying urgently. While Ron had sounded far away, she sounded much too close and far too loud.

"No," Harry moaned, then fell as his legs gave out on him. He didn't want anyone to know what he had tried and fervently shook his head (or thought he did), trying to tell them somehow, but he couldn't even tell the difference between a thought and his own voice. The trance was failing. He hadn't found anything out about Sirius at all because he couldn't concentrate hard enough. Stubbornly he pressed his Godfather back into his thoughts and saw the Department of Mysteries imposing over his vision. Relief flooded him, mixed with a cold fear of the setting. "Sirius?" he called out, seeing a familiar flash. "Sirius!"

Just as his Godfather became substantial, something Harry could see was him beyond a shadow of a doubt, Ron's voice intruded upon his perception. "...take him to the dorms. I'll watch him all night..."

He was losing the vision again. The Department of Mysteries swirled away just as swiftly as it had come. "No!" he yelled, frustrated that he could not control this. A hand cupped his mouth that he tried to fight, but Harry could not break the hold. He was exhausted, sick and more disoriented than he had ever been in his life. This was horrible and in many ways worse than Voldemort. The trance kept him from entering back into reality, kept him trapped without any conceivable way out of the nightmare and he could feel his very control slipping further and further away.

Seeing no other choice, too tired to battle frightening this state of mind, Harry gave up trying and everything went blissfully black.

xxx

**Author: **Ruse angelruse**AT**gmail**DOT**com

**Disclaimer**: Harry and company belong to the wonderful J., whom I thank personally for the deliciousness that is Snape.


	8. Defense Against the Dark Arts

**Hidden Things  
**Defense Against the Dark Arts  
_  
Harry becomes involved in a dangerous spell that reveals the frightening truth about Snape and could also give Voldemort his chance to kill him. Alternate Universe - Sixth Year._

xxx

Sunday morning Harry had woken up feeling drained, but in control, much to Ron's relief. His friend had stuck by him a greater part of the night, watching for any sign his friend would wake up in trouble or worse. Hermione had no explanation for it except to say that it would probably happen again if Harry went through with another trance. He wasn't sure he was up for it again so soon, but a nagging part of him demanded he try again at some point. Despite his fervent need to try again, they had spent that Sunday playing Quidditch and other activities that freed them from the stress of the weekend exploits.

It was now a sleepy Monday morning at breakfast. Harry poked at a biscuit on his plate and murmured, "_Thanks_," as Ron spilled the salt onto his eggs.

His friend hurriedly picked up the shaker. "Sorry, mate. If Hermione would get her big book out of the way..."

"Don't blame your clumsiness on my good study habits," she responded tartly, but closed the volume anyway and reached for her pumpkin juice. "We _are _a bit behind on Defense, you know."

"Yeah, by one day," Ron pointed out. He jabbed a piece of sausage with his fork and lifted it to his mouth. "Let me guess. One day could mean everything, right?"

"Well..."

Harry watched them bicker for a moment more before interrupting, "And you two accuse me of unplea-"

His sentence was cut short by the doors to the Great Hall swinging open violently. All eyes turned towards the culprit, who happened to be a third year Gryffindor. He was shaking and his face was livid. Harry swallowed when he noticed he was the target of the boy's wide, angry eyes. "Why didn't you go to him?" he yelled, his voice cutting the air. No one said a word. At the High Table Professor Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall were rising to their feet.

The young Gryffindor entered and began stomping towards Harry, who turned to address the situation as best he could. He shook his head, not sure what the boy meant. "Calm down and we can-"

"No! Answer me! Why didn't you just go to him when he asked you!" The Gryffindor balled his fists and startled everyone around by attacking him. Harry had little trouble keeping the boy from damaging him too seriously, but he missed blocking a right hook that crashed into his jaw. He grabbed at the boys wrists, trying to get him under control without hurting him too much, but anger fueled the third year before him. The Gryffindor jerked Harry off the bench and screamed, "He killed my little sister because of you!"

Harry felt as if the wind had been knocked out of him. It then became all too clear to him why this boy was so agitated. A swirl of robes surrounded them, but the Gryffindor was too bent on revenge. Hagrid tried to subdue the boy, calling, "Come on now, David," but it didn't stop him from barreling into Harry, knocking him off balance. He toppled backwards and fell against one of the teachers and stayed for a moment, not caring which, just staring as David started hitting Hagrid now for dragging him off.

"Pull yourself together, Potter," Snape ordered in a quiet tone, then shoved him onto his own feet.

"Sorry," he muttered automatically and without thought as he continued to gaze, watching Hagrid pull the Gryffindor into the entrance hall. The doors to the Great Hall swung shut, blocking his view of the two of them and Dumbledore, closing with a deafening crack that filled the silence. A hand tugged at his sleeve, drawing him back down to the table. He turned his head and saw Hermione's hand on his arm.

Owls fluttered in as he numbly sat down beside his friends, one of which dropped Hermione's copy of the Daily Prophet onto the table before her. She picked up with hesitantly, looking at the front page. Her groan told Harry that there was a terrible story on the front page. "He killed someone last night, didn't he?" Harry breathed, pushing his plate away.

She folded the paper and nodded solemnly. "A little Muggle girl that had strayed from her house. Someone on the street saw her following a white kitten into the woods, but when they chased after her all he could find was, well, a lot of blood."

"This is...this is bad," he said raggedly, trying not to build an image of what might have occurred in his mind. "This can't go on."

A form stopped behind him and a hand found his shoulder. "Harry," Professor Lupin said in a very calming voice, "would you be good enough to help me before class today? Come along."

Defense Against the Dark Arts was next, having moved to Monday mornings from last year's schedule. Harry nodded wordlessly and stood up with his friend, following and ignoring the snort Malfoy let him hear. Lupin said nothing as they traversed the stairs together, not until they entered his classroom and the door was shut. He sat back on his desk and motioned Harry to sit in front of him, but he felt too wound up to stay still now. Lupin watched him pace a moment, then spoke. "Harry, I know this must be difficult for you. But what happened was not your fault."

Harry sat briefly against a desk, shaking his head. "How can you say that? If I weren't still here..."

"Then Voldemort would have killed you and attacked some other family." The Defense teacher shook his head softly. "Harry, there are no easy outs in this war. There are no easy answers for any of us." When he didn't get a response, he continued on. "In the beginning, before you were born, Professor Dumbledore received the same sort of threats, you know. Demands that he do this or the other, or else."

This got Harry's attention. It hadn't occurred to him that the Headmaster might have gone through this. "And what did he do? How did he handle these demands?"

Professor Lupin inhaled a breath and looked at him gravely. "Some demands were met. Others weren't and sometimes we won, sometimes we lost. In the end only one thing could stop Voldemort's terror. You know what that was."

"Me." He shook his head, feeling helpless, feeling bitter that he had been chosen as the catalyst for the center of all these events.

"Suppose you did decide to go to him. To give in to his demands and perhaps forfeit the chance you have to defeat him if this prophecy is true. What do you think would happen after he killed you, assuming you could not kill him first?"

Harry gazed at the floor without any answers, replied in a tired voice, "I don't know."

The professor got up from his desk and sat beside him, leaning down so he could draw the youth's attention. Harry could see Lupin was searching himself for some words of comfort, something he could say that would make things better, but was sorrowfully empty of all but the truth. "If you go to him unprepared and die then tomorrow Voldemort will go for the next Muggle-born. If you give yourself to him and we give in to all his demands, if Professor Dumbledore lays down his claim in this fight, then he will still kill until our world is how he sees it in his mad vision for it. Some wars can be fought with words and with compromise. Unfortunately some cannot and there are losses, yes, but if we win, Harry, if we can give those we love and even those we do not know a measure of peace and security then the losses are not in vain. Do you see what I mean?"

It didn't wash the cries of that young Gryffindor from Harry's mind, but understanding made his thoughts clear enough to see he could not act rashly. This battle was too important. He would train and learn all he could to defeat the enemy. And then Voldemort would pay. "I think I do," he said quietly, nodding his head. A moment of comfortable silence passed between them before the doorway opened and the rest of the class entered. They went silent upon seeing who was in the room, some of them looking uncertain as to whether or not they should take seats yet.

Hermione sat down with a worried look, eyes watching Harry without words. Ron ventured to motion him over and at that Harry stood, approaching his friends, feeling a little calmer now. At the head of the class Professor Lupin picked up a piece of chalk and began writing on the board, then turned and said, "Today we're going to talk about vampires."

xxx

That night, lying tucked between the blankets on his bed, Harry considered the spells he knew, the curses and potions and antidotes, running a list over in his mind until at long last he was sure Ron had fallen asleep. Sitting up, he watched the boys around him for any signs of stirring and got up as soon as he was satisfied. His invisibility cloak was already waiting for use, tucked under the bed in a spot Harry had placed it earlier when he had run up here alone. He snatched it from its place and draped it over him, then grabbed his wand and the Marauder's Map.

The common room was empty, thankfully. Gazing over the map revealed no teachers in the immediate area, so tucking it beneath his arm and opening the hidden door, Harry set off into the darkness towards a certain goal that happened to share the same floor as Gryffindor Tower. As he slipped through the shadows he began to concentrate on what he neededa place for extensive training. When he came to the door he brushed back the cloak and wrapped his hand around the knob.

"Harry, what are you doing out of bed at this time?" an unexpected voice called from behind, sending a chill down his spine.

He turned and looked up at the hovering figure of Nearly Headless Nick, who watched him curiously. "Oh, er, hello, Sir Nicholas. I didn't see you. Well, I just..." He trailed off, uncertain what to reply. The ghost watched him mildly and Harry gave in. "I was going to go for a bit of training. You know, what with er...the Dark Lord sort of threatening my life." He didn't think Sir Nicholas would tell anyone of his activities, but he hoped his words would convince the other of the gravity of his situation.

The ghost nodded, seeming to understand. "Good idea. Perhaps I could help you. I can't cast any spells or touch you, but you could at least practice your aim on a moving target, hmm?"

Harry stared for a moment, blinking his eyes. "You'd...you'd be willing to do that?" he asked, not really sure whether or not he truly wanted company.

"Well, after all, your curses can't exactly harm me, seeing as I'm already dead," Nicholas responded in earnest. Something about his sincere offer made it less uncomfortable to invite someone else into these secret sessions.

"Brilliant," he responded with a half grin, turning the handle.

The Room of Requirement looked nothing like it ever had before when Harry had used it. It was much larger than he had ever seen it, for one thing, reminding him of Mr. Weasley's expansion charm for the car. And just as before there were books, but that was only one of the room's minor features. There were obstacles and a forest of large trees to hide behind that seemed to go on forever, equipment for physical training, weapons and a station for brewing potions, not to mention implements for first aid in case he required it. It was a lot to take in and had a looming side effect of making him feel he wasn't as prepared as he might have guessed.

It also awakened within him something that had been lost since last yearexcitement. "A fine facility," Nicholas commented, floating around the room, inspecting it.

Harry nodded. "It'll do."

"What do you say we work on your aiming techniques first, hmm?" the ghost suggested with a certain knowing look. "I have just the incantation. Professor McGonagall is fond of using it when Peeves is hanging about her office. The incantation is '_Phasma__ Fervesco_', the Glowing Spirit charm. It makes it easier for her to chase him out at night when he blends in with the shadows easier. If you hit me, then I'll begin to glow. Use '_fusco_' and I'll return happily back to normal, though personally I think the teachers would do well to leave Peeves on, so to speak. It might discourage him some."

Inwardly Harry questioned what his first step should be, but thought better of disagreeing with his only help. "Right," he said, looking around at the obstacles. "I suppose odds are I'll be running from whoever is chasing me. Or I might want to, at least. I suppose you should come at me offensively and I'll er, take cover and try to hit you with the glowing charm."

Ghosts had certain advantages that humans did not and at first Sir Nicholas forgot to at least simulate dodging the obstacles until finally Harry pointed out gently that the Death Eaters wouldn't be able to walk through trees or furniture. Still, even when he amended his techniques Harry managed to illuminate the ghost a bit less than he would have liked. It was tiring to try and balance his surroundings with defense and offense, and more than once Harry banged his head on an overhead branch or bumped too roughly into the tree trunks he dove behind.

They trained this way for quite a while. Harry found himself lost in his aim and in Nearly Headless Nick's humorous parody of an angry Death Eater closing in. Neither of them were aware that Peeves had watched them enter, then fluttered away to cause trouble elsewhere, nor aware that forty minutes later a professor happened upon the poltergeist and was treated to a rhyme about children being out of bed at night in a room that changes at need or fright.

As the teacher closed in upon the Room of Requirement Harry was running from Sir Nicholas, frustrated that he had been caught once again by the ghost, who had run his hand through Harry and exclaimed he'd got him, then waited to give chase again. He darted around one of the trees, but being worn down by his exploits, tripped and hit the dirt just as the door opened. He didn't even hear it or the footsteps that followed.

Harry lay there on the simulated forest floor for a moment, glaring at the dirt on his hand in disappointment of his own skills. It had seemed so easy before, when he was forced to defend himself without trying to think of everything around him. Hes gonna kill me.

A moment passed before he was aware of the black boots close by. Harry swallowed and followed them up to two black eyes upon him. He was caught and there was no getting out of this. His discouragement increased, so much so he could only stare into Professor Snape's hard gaze, thinking, _I wont even make it to Voldemort._

"Get up, Potter," Snape hissed, uncrossing the arms that had been resting in a pose of superiority over his chest. He looked as though he would grab for the offending student, but made no move to do so. Harry waited to hear he was in trouble, that he had earned a detention, house points taken off or worse, that he was now expelled from Hogwarts. He even reasoned Snape would probably make some biting comment about not trusting Lupin to train him well enough in a classroom setting, but none of those things came from his teacher's lips.

As Harry straightened, Snape reached into his robe and pulled out his wand, startling him. Surely the Potions Master wouldn't attack him for _this_. Not on school grounds, anyway. He swallowed and gripped his own wand a little tighter, not sure how to react to this situation. Seeming to read his fear, Snape sneered and pointed his wand at Harry's chest. "I will give you to the count of five to run and I assure you that should you allow yourself to be caught what I can do is far worse than anything a half-headless ghost can accomplish. One."

Harry blinked in confusion, not sure he understood right. What was Snape doing? He couldn't be offering to train him. There was no way. "Profess-"

"_Two_."

He didn't need to be told twice. Not by Snape, who would not let questions or confusion be an excuse for failing to obey. Harry darted away, moving between the trees, listening keenly as he juggled determination with the questions on his mind. There was little doubt that Snape would twist this, try to pay him back for disregarding school rules, but it was too late to argue now. He heard his teacher finish the countdown and then nothing else. Whatever he was doing, he was not running towards Harry, which was a bit more disturbing than if he had. Holding his wand up, he slipped behind a large rock, daring to peek around it. Snape was nowhere to be seen.

Harry looked around himself for a vantage point, spotting a tree with branches low enough for climbing. Running right for it was out. As quiet as Snape was being, there was little doubt that Potter was expected to match him, sneak for sneak. "_Protego_," he whispered, shielding himself against any possible attack the teacher might try to use.

And then he saw Sir Nicholas floating nonchalantly ahead, seeming to mind his own business except for the occasional glance to Harry's left. Taking the hint Harry chose to go right, slipping between two of the tall statues. He listened intently, trying to hear anything from breath to a footstep that hadn't been delivered softly. Snape was good, he had to admit, if only to himself. He only hoped the Potions Master wouldn't do something drastic.

Looking at the tree he planned to climb, Harry darted behind another and stopped short when he heard Snape's voice from somewhere behind, hissing, "I know where you are, Potter."

His heart raced in uncertainty. Was Snape lying or did he truly know? He could never tell with him, for the Potions Master was equally as likely to try and trick him as to lord his advantages over him. Harry leaned forward against his tree, peeking around it, trying to catch sight of those black robes or a shadow. He groped for something to tell him where the professor was, but saw nothing. One week ago if someone had told him he would be trapped in a room with Snape hell bent on trying to kill him he might have laughed_might_ have. Now he was just well and bloody unnerved.

He waited, watching and listening, debating on whether or not to move again, when suddenly from behind him, the opposite direction he had heard the voice previously, he heard Snape said, "_Finite_."

Harry didn't turn around to find out what would happen next, darting away. This time Snape did run after him and was quick, hurling curses each time he caught sight of the student. Fueled by his pride and a touch of fear on top of it, Harry noticed he was doing much better at escaping than he had been with Nearly Headless Nick. But then, he reflected as he ducked out of the forest of trees into the forest of training equipment and behind a free standing bookshelf, he knew the ghost wouldn't harm him.

At the end of the bookshelf Harry skidded, seeing a shadow. Professor Snape hurled himself around the unit, aiming his wand, crying, "_Impedimenta!_" just as Harry crashed against the shelves and toppled to the floor. Instead of hitting him, however, the spell caught the books that had started to rain down, stopping them in mid air. Using that mistake, Harry scrambled to his feet and made a run for it once more, but this time Snape was just too close. Repeating his last spell the teacher halted his student's escape, then said quite calmly, "_Mordere__._"

Harry winced as a hot stinging sensation prickled across his flesh for a very uncomfortable moment that made him groan, then ceased. The professor stalked around, stopping before him with a gloating expression. "You would be dead if I were the Dark Lord. _Finite._" Snape watched him stumble forward from pent up momentum. "Defense is more than running and hiding. A good spell or hex can win you time for other actions."

"As if you'd let me use a spell on you," he countered irritably, rubbing at his skin, still recalling the strange sensation of the stinging hex.

The Potions Master's eyes narrowed momentarily. "My permission didn't seem to bother you in your third year up at the Shrieking Shack when I was trying to defend your life." He put his wand away and gazed at their surroundings in distaste. "Until your O.W.L. potion is complete these activities will be limited to once per week. After that, three times a week if your studies do not suffer from it. Study a book called _A Wizard's Way To Duel_ for ideas on offensive and defense spells, then at midnight next Monday meet me at the door to the courtyard." Glaring darkly, he moved an intimidating proximity closer. "You are not to tell anyone of this, Potter. And contrary to your disbelief, in this setting I will allow you to use spells that do no lasting damage or great pain. No maiming hexes, no Unforgivables. Do you understand me?"

"Yeah," Harry responded short, nodding. As Snape turned to go he couldn't reign in his curiosity at this strange offer that he wasn't sure he truly wanted to take the Potions Master up on. "What I don't understand is why you're helping me with this."

Stalking towards the door, Snape didn't bother to turn around to give his answer. "Because that werewolf friend of your father's couldn't teach a pixie how to bat her wings. Without me you're as good as dead to the Dark Lord." He stopped at the door and turned with glittering eyes. "Do _not _keep me waiting next Monday, Potter," he warned, then disappeared before Harry could ask why Snape cared whether or not he was as good as dead to anyone.

Sir Nicholas was waiting by the door with a thoughtful expression. "You did well against him, despite what he would have you think. Still, I know how you feel about him. I may come and watch you next Monday, if that's all right."

Wiping the sweat off his brow, Harry nodded at the ghost. "Yeah. Please do. At least if something happens to me there will be one witness." The ghost gave him a wan smile, then departed.

Confused, uncertain and bothered by this whole event, he gathered his things and after a glance at the Marauder's Map, went for Gryffindor Tower without even covering himself with his cloak. He just couldn't see why Snape was doing this, unless he was trying to see how far Harry was coming along so he could report it to Voldemort. That possibility made him very uncomfortable. Packing away his things, Harry spotted his Blood Trance potion on the night table. Feeling a little needy just now and giving in despite himself, Harry took a swig and laid down immediately, trying to think of the words Hermione had listed for him. Just as his eyes began to close of their own volition, he recalled one and murmured, "_Ostendo__ Paternus_," and tried to concentrate on his father without being bombarded by images of Crookshanks along with it. He didn't manage much more than a strange shadow that didn't resemble James Potter at all.

xxx

**Author: **Ruse angelruse**AT**gmail**DOT**com

**Disclaimer**: Harry and company belong to the wonderful J., whom I thank personally for the deliciousness that is Snape.

**A/N**: - Paltry Latin skills again. See my review for chapter one of this story for a link to my resource, since ffDOTnet won't let me post links. *sigh*  
_Phasma__ Fervesco_ - Phasma - Spirit. Fervesco - to become hot, to glow.  
_Fusco _- to darken.  
_Mordere_- to nip, to bite, to sting.


	9. Caring For Magical Creatures

**Hidden Things  
**Caring For Magical Creatures

_Harry becomes involved in a dangerous spell that reveals the frightening truth about Snape and could also give Voldemort his chance to kill him. Alternate Universe - Sixth Year._

xxx

The next day after Harry's rather odd training session with the Potions Master passed uncomfortably for him. At breakfast the students had been particularly quiet when he came around the tables. Even the Gryffindors were more subdued with him than usual, which he supposed he should be used to by now, seeing as every other year the entire school found something to be at odds with him about, but it really bothered him deep down, this time more than ever. At least when they were accusing him of being the Heir of Slytherin he had known he wasn't really responsible for anyone's death at that point. Despite what Professor Lupin had said each and every glare someone directed at him was like a finger being pointed. He hadn't even seen the younger Gryffindor since their scuffle in the Great Hall.

The Slytherins however were acting quite the opposite, bowing to him in the corridors and in the Great Hall, quietly calling him the 'Mudblood Killer' when teachers weren't around. Malfoy was the worst, having walked up on the way to lunch to wrap his arm around Harry's neck like they were friends. "You know, Potter, just wanted to say fantastic job. Hang in there. They'll get Granger's parents sooner or later."

Pushed to the brink of his limit, Harry had turned on his enemy and Malfoy had walked away with an itchy rash on his face, scratching madly and issuing threats. As he and Ron headed towards Care of Magical Creatures, which they had kept in their schedules since Hagrid was teaching it, he reflected on that moment, hoping Malfoy would still be detained in the Hospital Wing.

As other students, Gryffindor and Slytherin, filed towards where Hagrid was waiting near a strange looking pen, Harry noticed with relief that the pale, blond boy was nowhere to be seen. "Hey, Ron," he murmured, looking out across the grounds, seeing another form missing. "Where's Hermione?"

"Dunno, mate," his friend replied, joining his search. They turned towards each other and Ron shrugged. "She was following us after lunch, but said she had go to back for something. She's gotta turn up sometime, right?"

"I suppose so."

Ron nudged him with his elbow. "Hey, uh, Harry. I saw you left a certain potion uncapped on your night table this morning. You try that trance again?" He darted glances to make sure no one was listening in.

Harry looked up quickly, noting the curious concern written on his friend's face. "Yeah, well, I thought I would give it a try since I would already be lying down and all. I didn't wake anyone, did I, or call out in my sleep?" That was all he needed, to be waking all his friends in the dead of night while doing something he could only learn about in the restricted section.

He was greatly relieved when his friend shook his head. "Naw. I just wondered what happened. Did you see anything, though? Did you see..."

"No, not Sirius." All morning he had puzzled over the images that had swirled through his mind after taking the Blood Trance draught. None of it had made any sense to him, teasing him with images of the corridors of Hogwarts, children laughing and then fading away to be replaced with the shadows of night even as the sun gleamed through the windows. He had gotten a better hold of what he was processing, even if it didn't make sense, following along the halls with a tentative goal in mind. In the end he had turned a corner and found himself in a swarm of students and teachers and there he had seen a dark form along the edges of the other side of the room with an unmistakable aura of the feelings he associated with only one. Harry looked up at Ron seriously. "I think I saw my dad."

Ron couldn't respond. Hagrid was already motioning the students to gather around the new pen he had set up for class. Looking around both boys noticed Hermione's continued absence. "You don't think she's at that time turner again, do you?" Ron asked, stepping up to the pen. He looked inside and knit his brow at the sight within.

"Dunno," Harry mumbled, following his gaze.

Inside the rough, wooden pen was a squat, tubby bird with a rather thick beak, gray features and wings much too small for flying. It gazed up at the students with keen, yellow eyes that didn't take its company for granted for one moment. "Doesn't look too dangerous yet," Neville remarked, then hopped away when the bird shook its head threateningly.

"Would I bring somethin' dangerous ter class?" Hagrid asked reflectively, stepping into the pen with the animal. He grinned at the gathering students, motioning for quiet. "Anyone tell me what this here is? Quietly, mind. Abner's a bit shy at firs'."

"Abner?" Ron repeated softly, giving Harry a look.

Harry smiled and peered at the bird. He actually had an idea of what this might be. "It sort of looks like what Muggles call a 'dodo bird', Professor."

Hagrid's face lit up. He pointed with a proud nod. "Righ' you are, Harry. This here is what yer Muggles'd call a dodo, a bird they b'lieve ter be extinct, but in our world we know better. Anyone know what the righ' an' proper name is fer our li'l feathery friend here?"

This time Neville lifted his hand and answered as Hagrid called on him, "A 'diricawl', Professor Hagrid. My Gran said they used to run wild on her father's property, getting into things and causing trouble." There were several snorts at this.

"Then yer grea'-grandad was a lucky man, 'cause yer diricawl's don't take ter livin' among people too easy." The half-giant tossed a small fish, which pelted the diricawl on the head and fell to the grass. Quite rapidly the bird dove down and snatched it up. "Now these here birds is said ter be a bit lazy and more 'an a bit clumsy, but these li'l guys have their uses."

"Yeah. Any time you need a good giggle just hop on out to Neville's for a look." Harry elbowed Ron and grinned at his remark.

Their teacher went on without missing a beat. "Now see, ter harvest their tail feathers ye wanna be real careful, see," he crept up slowly towards the bird, which was quite comical to see because Abner watched him like a hawk, shifting nervously, its belly dragging on the ground, "real careful..." Then suddenly the bird seemed to explode, leaving a shower of feathers swirling to the ground. Hagrid made a face and shook his head. "Well, tha's what happens when yer not too careful. They up an' disappear on ye. Not to worry, 'e'll come back sometime. I guess fer right now we'll jus' discuss the proper handlin' of 'em, eh?"

The rest of class was spent discussing the diricawl's uses and behaviors while their teacher kept a shifty eyed lookout for any appearance of the fat bird out of the corner of his eye. Hermione never showed up, leaving Ron and Harry wondering where she was by the end of it all. They were discussing it as they approached the castle when suddenly Harry caught sight of her waiting by the door. They ran up to greet her.

"Where were you?" Ron asked first, pointing his thumb over his shoulder. "You should have seen what Hagrid brought to class. I'm stunned it was actually a safe animal. Well mostly. They do bite a bit hard, apparently..."

Seeing her pale features Harry nudged his friend into silence. "Is something wrong?"

Hermione pursed her lips, looking between them, her eyes dimming in unease when they rested on him. "Well, not really. It isn't as bad as it could be, at any rate."

"What is it?"

She swallowed and folded her arms, following in as Ron held the door open for them. "Well, you see my home, it was destroyed last night. The Death Eaters set fire to it."

Harry felt his stomach drop. "Your parents" he started in a panic, drawing his friends off down the hall where no one was to overhear or jeer.

"Are fine," she finished for him. "They weren't even there. Professor Dumbledore had them moved before the end of summer. They're perfectly all right. Safe and sound and hidden away."

He was glad for that, certainly, but her words didn't stay the ever present guilt that washed over him anew. "I'm sorry," he said softly, choosing his words uncertainly. "I wish...I wish it hadn't happened."

"It's all right, Harry." Her voice was subdued, but firm.

He shook his head at her, knowing the real truth of the matter. Those closest to him were in the worst amount of danger. "But if you weren't my..."

Hermione's hand came to rest against his shoulder gently. "Harry, don't. I've known this could happen for a long time now and I haven't gone anywhere. Besides, maybe our new home will be a bit bigger." She tried to smile, but he could tell she was still pretty shaken up inside. It was yet another atrocity added to the list of things he would use to fuel his bravery when it came time for him to face the final battle. Even if he never defeated Voldemort he would do as much damage as he could before going out.

Hermione looked up at Ron, forcing a smile. "What was Care of Magical Creatures about, anyway? He said last week he would have a surprise today."

Ron rolled his eyes. "Hagrid had this big, stupid bird out there today named, are you ready for it, 'Abner' of all things. Harry called it a 'doodoo' or something."

Harry grinned lightly at his friends. "That's 'dodo'." Her eyes lit up in recognition. "It was kind of cute. In an ugly sort of way."

"Yeah, like you," Ron teased him, moving on before either of them could continue talking about the diricawl. "By the way, Harry here tried the Blood Trance again last night while I was asleep."

Hermione's dark eyes went wide. "You tried it? Alone? What if something had happened to you in your sleep and Ron not knowing to check on you?" She frowned when he didn't answer her. "Well, did you any progress, anyway?"

He shrugged and pushed up from the wall he had been leaning against. "A little. We'd better head to class."

"At least he wasn't screaming," his best friend added with a grin.

"There is that. I do think I made progress in the actual trance though. I seemed more able to hold on to what I was seeing. Reality didn't intrude so often."

She looked pleased by that, letting go for the moment his recklessness. She ventured into the next question carefully. "Did you see Sirius?"

They began to descend into the dungeons for their last class of the day. While he was disappointed that he had failed to see his Godfather the first try, he couldn't contain a bit of excitement over last night. "No, but then I wasn't just trying for him either. I sort of got to thinking about my dad as I was getting ready to go to bed, so I guess I hoped to see something of him. I didn't get much. Just a form, really. I couldn't tell by sight, but there were...feelings, if that makes any sense. Like I just knew that was my dad."

The gears were turning, he could tell. She was dissecting his results, always studying whatever she could. Her eyes flashed over him speculatively. "Perhaps you should stick with your father or something similar until you get a better hang on these trances. Your feelings for Sirius are a bit complex just now, mixed with conflicting emotions. With time you may be able to delve further."

"Maybe. I'm going to try again before the weekend."

"Tonight?" Ron asked him curiously.

Harry shook his head, knowing it was way too rough on him to go through so soon. It would wear him completely out for class tomorrow if he did it again. "No. It was hard enough to get up this morning. I'll give if a few days and then-"

"Hey, Potter!" a voice snapped through the halls, breaking their conversation up. Harry groaned and turned to see Malfoy behind them, standing with Crabbe and Goyle faithfully flanking his sides. He had a white colored cream on his cheeks, nose and forehead, the sight of which sort of conflicted with the deadly seriousness of his tone. "You're dead for what you did."

Harry glared ahead as his enemy stalked on towards them. "So you've been saying for a long time actually. Nice face, Malfoy."

Ron grinned and nodded. "Yeah. That white stuff conceals nearly half of it. That's quite an improvement, I say."

The Slytherin glowered at him viciously. "You wait, both of you. One of these days..."

"One of these days someone else, like say _Voldemort_, will try something so you won't have to keep saying that?" Harry countered just as darkly. Malfoy looked poised to respond, but stopped, shooting a glance over Ron's shoulder. The three Gryffindors turned to see Snape watching coolly from the door. He said nothing to either party, but there was very little patience written in his expression. Wordlessly Harry entered class without looking at the professor or back at Malfoy.

xxx

There was Quidditch practice that night where it was announced finally that Ginny had made Chaser for the team this year along with two new Gryffindor players that took up the Beater positions Fred and George had left vacant. Harry had been so wrapped up in this, that and the other that he had totally forgotten about Ginny's desire to be on the team and was of two minds about it. He knew she was a fair player, having played at the Burrow with her a few times during summer vacation, but at the same time Harry felt a certain duty to Ron. Ginny wasnt about to take prisoners on this battlefield and he privately worried his best friend wouldnt be able to keep up. Watching her practice as he came out onto the field, he really took notice of her skill as a flier, though, coming to the conclusion that if she could keep herself from becoming nervous like Ron had been during his tryouts for Keeper, she would be a fair asset for the house team.

Seeing Harry and her brother enter the pitch she swooped down on her broom, waving with a large smile. "Dont worry boys. Youve got some good blood on the team now," she said with an eager grin.

Ron didn't look particularly all that thrilled, Harry thought. "Wonderful. My baby sister on the team. I'm going to have loads of fun making sure you don't get hurt every match."

Ginny stuck her tongue out at him. "No one's telling you that you have to do that, you know. _I'm_ certainly not going to be looking out for _you_." She zoomed off to go wave at Hermione in the stands, leaving her brother shaking his head at her departure.

"I ask you, what's the use in having a little sister, huh? You know if she gets hurt it'll be me that gets in trouble for letting it happen, but yet she's absolved of any sisterly duties the second she steps out onto the field." Harrys best friend sighed mournfully.

Getting his Firebolt ready, he smirked at Ron. "Try not to let it keep you from your Keeper duties, though. "

Ron shook his head, still darting looks at Ginny now and then. "Oh, you mark me, I won't. Little runt wants to go and get her neck broken it's not my fault, after all, WATCH IT WILL YOU!" He ran a hand through his hair nervously as his sister just barely escaped colliding with another player, which Harry secretly suspected might have been on purpose just to flirt with danger and show off. "She'll be the death of me. You wait and see. And you be sure to tell my mum that, too."

"I'll tell her you've cracked is what I'll tell her." Harry kicked off the ground, hovering a few feet above Ron, waiting for him to follow.

His friend nodded with a sigh, wincing at a dangerous loop his sister made in the air. "Yeah. Cracked and it's all Ginny's fault. I'll never let them forget it, either. Ginny! _Will you slow down?_"

The Gryffindor team played until it the sun began to melt beneath the horizon in a golden-orange blaze. Harry glanced across the field, seeing Ron attempting to drag himself up his broom, having slipped a second time that night. He couldnt help but laugh at the look on Rons face when he finally mounted, only to have Ginny whiz by and nearly knock him off again, making cat calls at her brother. This promised to be a very interesting year. Very interesting indeed. He was just about to call out to Ron and offer his own tease when something caught his eye. It was faint in the failing light, hardly discernable. A shadow made seemed to disappear just at the edge of the Forbidden Forest so fast he wondered if it hadnt been a trick of the lighting. Harry looked hard into the darkness swelling out between the trees, but could see neither hide nor hair of whatever had caught the corner of his eye a moment ago. He looked up to see if anyone else had seen it too, but the teams attention was on Ginny. She lifted her arm slowly and pointed, drawing both Harry and Ron's gaze to follow. At first Harry noticed nothing except Hermione with her nose in a book, which was the cause of Ron's snort, or so he thought, and then something brown and fat drew his attention. There above their friend was Abner, his belly dragging the bench as he waddled on towards her like a soundless predator. Ginny made ready to call and warn Hermione, but Ron put a hand on her shoulder to stop her, hissing, "Watch. This should be good. Mental bird." His sister gave him a cross look, but said nothing.

Abner stopped just above her, shaking his head as he had with Neville, then with a sudden and surprising flash, his beak darted out, catching Hermione's hair. She gave a squeak they could hear even as far away as they were and dropped her book with a clamor that started Abner squawking. The bird flapped his wings quickly and tumbled back off the bench above Hermione, then disappeared in another explosion of feathers. The three of them watched as she picked up her book with a nervous glance around her, then shook her head at them before returning to her studies.

Ron elbowed Harry in the shoulder. "Harry, my good mate, that may be the best magical creature Hagrid's let escape his care yet."

Xxx

**Author: Ruse angelruseATgmailDOTcom **

**Disclaimer**: Harry and company belong to the wonderful J., whom I thank personally for the deliciousness that is Snape.

**A/N**: - Yes, diricawls are part of the Potterverse. I did a little reading on dodo's...and they apparently did drag their bellies and were thought to be clumsy and stupid. ;-) Anyway, for those that haven't read the Magical Creatures book out there, JK wrote that Muggles thought they were extinct because they disappear like they do, in a whirlwind of feathers.

As always, thank you all so much for the reviews! (Sniff) You guys are awesome...and...the beginning Snape's POV parts is up next chapter for those interested in his half of the tale. Yeee! ;-)


	10. Thief

**Hidden Things  
**Thief  
_  
Harry becomes involved in a dangerous spell that reveals the frightening truth about Snape and could also give Voldemort his chance to kill him. Alternate Universe - Sixth Year._

xxx

The night had come when Harry was ready to return back into the world of dark time visions and disjointed half-truths. Knowing it could be all night before they learned anything from this, Hermione had opted to allow Ron to be the designated watcher who would check on him every little bit to make sure things weren't getting out of hand, but she fully expected a detailed report in the morning, of course. To tell the truth Harry was a bit nervous about this. He had been too tired to think of it the other night, but being awake now and able to process what he was getting himself into, he worried just a bit about what might happen if he screamed or did anything else equally as embarrassing. As they sat in their beds waiting for the Gryffindors to be well asleep he kept shooting Ron grim glances that made his friend roll his eyes.

It was about midnight by the time Ron got up off his bed, padding to Harry's in the moonlight, and settled down at the foot of the bed. "Don't worry about it, Harry. If I see you moaning or something I'll shove your pillow over your face until you're still." He grinned and bumped Harry's feet.

"Thanks," he responded, uncorking the potion. It did feel better with his friend watching over him, knowing what was up. He considered more than once telling Ron about Snape too, but then he would imagine the other's disgusted expression and kept his mouth shut. "All right. I'm taking it now." Lifting the potion to his lips, he took a tiny swig, noticing that despite the jokes his best friend was watching a bit apprehensively, as if he were hoping there wouldn't be any emergencies or rushed half-explanations that would get them into trouble. The bitter substance slipped down Harry's throat slimily, decidedly more unpleasant now that he was more aware of the rank taste. Lying back on his bed, Harry watched the ceiling blur as he whispered, "_Ostendo__ Paternus._"

The familiar sick feeling washed over him, but this time he was prepared for it and steeled himself against it. Fading in from the black behind his closed eyes were the surroundings of his own common room. Harry blinked and sat up, wondering if perhaps the potion had lost its potency, but saw things were not as they should be. As he lost his concentration the vision began to flicker. "Dad," he breathed, his voice seeming to carry sharply across the room. His breath was visible before him, swirling and then dissipating in a shower of stars.

A figure across the way moved in bed. The other beds were not occupied, leaving him alone with this single person whom he assumed could be no one else but his father. Harry stood up to investigate the sleeping figure, then fell back as a wave of dizziness overtook his senses. Gritting his teeth, he hissed, "_Dad_," and concentrated on forcing all but the idea of seeing his dad from his mind. He opened his eyes, watching the room spin, willing it to calm for his sake.

Pushing himself back up, Harry stood up again and the ground shivered beneath his feet. Stones fell from out of their place in the floor, revealing an endless pit of blackness underneath. Watching his step made the world before him darken. He knew he would never make it if he focused on that instead of his father. But what would happen to him in this strange world if he fell into one of these black holes? The form in bed stirred again and he thought, _I'm coming, Dad_.

Taking a leap of faith he stepped out onto the dark patches of missing stones and found himself on solid ground. His eyes were playing tricks on him. He focused on the meaning of this vision, wondering if he was seeing a memory or some strange fantasy of his father forged from his own thoughts. Would his father speak to him? Would he recognize him and say things only James Potter would say? Or would it be an echo of himself merely saying things Harry wanted to hear?

His bare feet hit the cold stones softly, drawing him across the dorm until at last he stood by the bed. The sheets sprawled across it were emerald, he noticed, then watched as the color completely faded into a monochromatic view of the room around him. Harry knit his brow and reached for the blanket shielding his father from him, drawing it back quickly and frowning. His father was not there, but instead there nestled a coiled, black snake, flitting its tongue out.

The snake stretched and slithered off the bed, hitting the floor that seemed coated in some sort of strange powder. Harry watched it wiggle its way towards the stairs, then disappear into the shadows. He didn't know what this was supposed to mean, if anything, but decided he would learn nothing more here, so he followed, concentrating on the idea of the snake leading him to his father. Wind seemed to whistle through the castle as if a great door was open and in the distance he heard chimes tinkling, calling out to him. He rushed down the stairs to catch up with the snake.

At the foot of the steps was not the Gryffindor common room, but the cool of the castle stones beneath his feet. The snake had disappeared, leaving him alone in the soundless halls. "Dad?" he called out, hoping for a verbal response. There was none. And then a shadow teased at this senses. The footsteps of booted feet incited him to chance the form around a corner. He caught the scent of chemicals brewing, could taste the bitterness of the air. And more than that he felt something he did not expect. Fear charged the air mixed with a dull pain that had been blunted by time. He saw the dark shadow stalking ahead, but try as he might he could not catch up and no calls would evoke a response. Why was his father so afraid? Why was the air filled with such unpleasant emotions?

Harry raced after him and flew around another corner, stopping short as he felt soft grass beneath his feet and saw the vision of trees ahead of him. He was outside the castle, facing towards the Forbidden Forest. The stars were all weeping from the sky only to be replenished as if they had never even fallen. At his feet he saw the snake curling, black eyes glittering up at him. As it began towards the woods he followed without fear of his own, though that of the shadow he followed permeated the surroundings like a heavy smoke.

As he passed the threshold of the trees he lost sight of the snake once more, but it ceased to matter as he set eyes on a shadow moving ahead. "Dad?" he called and the form stopped a moment as if he had heard, but then carried on quickly, deeper into the woods. "Where are you going? Why?" There was no reply. Was this a memory of something his father had done? Perhaps he was afraid of getting caught, or maybe he was following after Lupin for the first time during one of his transformations. Maybe it had nothing to do with anything. It frustrated Harry to feel the answers so near and yet out of his grasp.

The brush stirred as the shadow he tailed moved on, then stopped suddenly in a clearing where leaves littered the earthen floor. These were not the leaves of fall, turned brow and collapsing from seasonal death, no. These leaves were green and full of life, heavy and moist as they rained downwards, spiraling on currents of air. Harry saw upon each one a burn etched into the floral flesh, a mark in the shape of a skull and from the mouth of it burst forth a snake that fell from the leaves onto the dirt. They each disappeared in a tiny puff of smoke.

Moonlight dripped down through the trees, shedding light on a tall form in black standing amidst the falling leaves. Feeling a thrill pass through him Harry stepped closer and gasped loudly. This was not his father, not James Potter. Dark hair framed a pensive face revealing black eyes that carried fear. It was Snape, only not like he had ever seen him. Gone was the hatred, the sneering bitterness that lined the professor's face. Snape was nervous, trying to master himself. He lifted his left arm and rubbed reflexively.

Harry was utterly confused, murmuring, "_Ostendo__ Paternus_," as if it would change what he was seeing. He concentrated hard on the desire to see his father, but nothing changed and the strange connection he had felt towards the shadow of what he had thought to be James Potter remained. Harry felt himself go cold at the association. It was as if his very blood cried out, bonded to this bitter person before him, but he could not see how it could be true. He refused to believe it.

Snape paced before him a moment, his eyes moving here and there as if he were rehearsing something in his mind or preparing for an exam. A cold breeze passed over Harry, bringing with it another wave of nausea. He felt himself losing control, being defeated by this misunderstanding. The vision faded as his teacher apparated away, leaving Harry alone in the woods. Angry but determined, he brought the desire to see his father back into his mind full force and the ground shook roughly as if resisting.

And then orange light began to bleed into the darkness. Walls seemed to grow from the dirt floor and a roof appeared as if it had always been there. Harry had seen this room before in his dreams. His heart seized in a sudden fear. Robed figures surrounded a chair where the Potions Master knelt in servitude. Even if this was a mere vision and Voldemort could not see him, he still shied away from entering his enemy's field of vision.

"Rise, Severus," Lord Voldemort ordered in his snakelike, demanding voice.

The Potions Master came to his feet and bowed his head. "How may I serve?" His robes had changed from his common clothes to the black mantle of a Death Eater.

Voldemort gave a cruel laugh. "You wish to serve and that is well with your Lord. Tell me, did you know the Mudblood child's parents had been moved from their filthy Muggle home?"

Harry gasped, then covered his mouth quickly. Professor Snape looked uneasy. "I knew, Master," he replied, not offering any more than that.

The Dark Lord's shadow moved as if he were nodding thoughtfully. "You knew and you did not tell me." He waved his hand dismissively as Snape opened his mouth to retort. "_Crucio__._"

His teacher fell to the floor in agony. Harry watched Snape gasp and writhe, his own eyes wide and his throat constricted in shock of witnessing this moment. When it ended Snape did not move until Voldemort commanded it. "Master," his ragged voice whispered hoarsely. "I did not know where they were."

"I see. It matters little now. What does matter is that you know never to hold anything, no matter how minute it may seem, from me again, Severus, my poisoner?" The title made Harry swallow. Was Snape currently poisoning innocent people?

The Potions Master nodded softly and it was then Harry decided he had seen far too much. He shoved all ambition to see his father out of his mind and thought fervently of the safety of Hogwarts, the waiting of his best friend, even the feast at breakfast. As the walls began to crumble the last he heard was Voldemort hissing, "How strange," and then everything went black.

This time Harry did not remain asleep, but woke up with a pounding heart and lungs that were desperately trying to take in oxygen. He sat up and covered his mouth, trying to calm his shattered nerves. No, it couldn't be right. The trance had to have gone terribly wrong, for he had seen no glimpse of the man he knew was his father. Perhaps Snape had been thinking of James Potter or perhaps this vision's importance superseded any other choices Harry might have made, but there was no way that blood bonded feeling could be real between he and the teacher that hated him. Harry felt sick, but didn't throw up despite how his insides churned.

As everything calmed down, leaving him feeling unusually hot and drained, Harry glanced around and saw Ron on his own bed, asleep sideways as if he had leaned back with the intent of resting his eyes before rising again later to check on his friend. Harry did not want to wake him for this. He was not sure he truly wanted to be awake for it himself. But be that as it may, he was assailed by a sudden cough that seemed to drain what little energy he had left. Harry covered his mouth with the back of his hand, trying desperately to balance volume control with the confusion swallowing him whole, and ended up waking his friend anyway. Thankfully the others remained either blissfully unaware or did not care to pursue it.

"I'm up," Ron whispered, sitting suddenly and rubbing his eyes. He spotted Harry in distress and was on his feet in an instant, coming to his side. "What's the matter, mate? You all right?"

"I'm fine," Harry wheezed, managing to get himself under control momentarily. His chest felt heavy and his lips tingled. "I've gotta lay down, Ron." Dizziness swirled through him, giving him the beginnings of a headache.

His friend nodded and helped him, drawing the blankets up over him and watching. If Harry had been more awake he would have noticed Ron's worry, but he was too drained to notice much or even care. His eyes closed easily and his body, feeling much too heavy to be his, settled into a single position he drifted off to sleep in. He didn't feel his best friend get up, didn't hear him sink into his own bed or see the eyes that remained upon him for the next twenty minutes.

xxx

The Forbidden Forest was a dangerous place, now more than ever before. Each time he entered he knew there was danger of disrupting the tentative agreement the Centaurs had with Dumbledore that allowed him passage. And more than that there were other unwholesome creatures within these woods, not to mention that giant Hagrid was foolishly allowed to keep around (which he shuddered to imagine meeting in the dark). There were few good reasons to enter the Forbidden Forest, so terrible it was, but it was a welcome sight to Severus Snape.

After apparating he took a moment to lean against a tree, so drained was he from enduring the Cruciatus Curse. Oh, he had been prepared for it sure enough, before he had even gotten the summons. The Dark Lord would naturally want to know why this little bit of information had not been given readily, for Granger was no ordinary Muggle-born. The friends of Potter had a special place in the Dark Lord's plans. But no matter how prepared one was to receive their punishment, there was nothing quite so terrifying as hearing that one single word pass those cold, pale lips.

More than just the pain of the Cruciatus, there was always the fear that the Dark Lord would carry it into a disturbing pastime before making the final kill. Severus pushed himself up from the tree and began stalking towards the school, reflecting on it darkly. The Dark Lord killed when he was angry and he killed when he deemed the servant in question became a liability.

Well, Severus had certain bought back his usefulness tonight. How utterly fortunate it was that he had caught Potter when he had. Such gift of knowledge he had been able to hand to the Dark Lord, that a man he called servant was teaching his enemy defense, learning each and every technique the boy could forge. Oh yes, Lord Voldemort had been pleased by the prospect of having a hand in teaching Potter how to bring about his own downfall. This news had bought Severus a great deal of security for the coming few months.

As he entered the castle he found it pleasantly dark and devoid of child, colleague or ghost until he came into the main entrance hall where a familiar form waited on the stairs. He pursed his lips in irritation, but held back, knowing the Headmaster was only there for his welfare. "Hello, Severus," Dumbledore said in his age softened voice.

"Headmaster," Snape replied with a moderate inclination of his head.

The old wizard measured his appearance before moving those all seeing blue eyes to his own black ones. "Shall I awaken Poppy to lend you assistance?" When Severus shook his head and failed to say anything more, Dumbledore went on. "Did anything of note happen?"

He was not going to get out of this as quickly as he would have liked, so answered freely. "He was angry about Miss Granger's parents having been removed from their home. Of course that resulted in what you would imagine. He has very specific plans for Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley for their friendship to Potter." Drawing in a breath, he moved on with the next order of business. "The Death Eaters have little doubt Lucius Malfoy will walk free very soon. Avery mentioned links that Lucius has in the ministry. Old favors that can be called in. I expect we will be seeing evidence of his rather exotic tastes surfacing in the Muggle attacks."

"Was there any mention of who would be attacked next?"

Severus nodded. "A seventh year Ravenclaw by the name of Wallace. Graham Wallace I believe. Two days."

Dumbledore's eyes flashed gravely. "They have already been contacted and have moved from their home into hiding. Anything else?" His piercing gaze settled on Severus.

Snape shook his head and looked towards the door to the dungeon meaningfully. "As you can see it was not an extended stay. I do not wish to be rude, Albus, but..."

"Ah yes," Dumbledore said, allowing a small smile to cross his features. "Of course. How terribly unobservant of me."

"Not at all-"

The older wizard waved his hand. "Rest then, if you are certain you need no attention."

Severus inclined his head gratefully, then turned as the Headmaster began up the stairs. He moved swiftly down into the dungeon as if fearing another interruption, even going so far as to leave a young Hufflepuff in the middle of exiting their House common room with merely a warning glare that sent her back into her common room squeaking in startlement.

Once in the confines of his personal quarters, he locked the door and wandered a little less hurriedly towards a cupboard where he kept his Firewhiskey. Tonight was a night that called for it and he was in no mood to deny himself any form of comfort. Pouring himself a glass, Severus glanced once upon his personal desk at some papers that required grading, then sank down into a large black chair near the bookshelf. He was so tired that even the trek to his bedroom seemed too daunting a task to be handled right now. He was going to be exhausted for classes tomorrow.

xxx

**Author: **Ruse angelruse**AT**gmail**DOT**com

**Disclaimer**: Harry and company belong to the wonderful J., whom I thank personally for the deliciousness that is Snape.


	11. Troubled Heart

**Hidden Things  
**Troubled Heart

xxx

The mouth of Severus Snape was set in a tight line that would hopefully prevent anyone from pestering him with the inane babbling that currently surrounded the Potions Master at the High Table at breakfast. He had not been wrong in his assumption last night. When dawn had broken the skies and the darkness of night rolled back for the benefit of the sun, that was the hour that Severus had finally wrestled himself into a much too fleeting sleep that he sorely missed now. He stifled a yawn, blinked his dark eyes several times and tried to ignore Hagrid's boisterous voice.

As usual, his ever present scowl did nothing to deter the Headmaster, who turned and spoke to him just then. "How was your sleep last night, Severus?"

"Fine, Headmaster," he replied automatically. He did not view it as a lie, even if it was not true, even though his rest had been troubled. It was his customary reply, a reflex that was as natural as the polite question the Headmaster had asked, though he did not doubt this time Dumbledore was truly concerned. He glanced at the older man and saw a knowing sparkle in his eyes. "As well as can be expected," he amended.

Professor Dumbledore gave him a touch on the shoulder, a touch that never failed to fill him with a strange sort of mixed feelings. It made him uncomfortable, chiefly, and he pulled away from it, and as always the Headmaster gave him that insufferable sigh that made him feel worse than the touch ever did. "I am sorry then, that I did not insist you receive help."

Severus grunted bitterly. As if there was help for the things he suffered. Dumbledore picked up on his emotions, as he always did and always would, looking even sorrier now. This line of conversation was heading nowhere he wished it to. "I thank you for your concern, Headmaster," he replied softly, stirring his tea with an absent fascination as he gazed into the liquid. He did not apologize for his demeanor, nor bother to for much of anything else of late. There came a time when one had to realize apologies were never going to cover the debt. His fingers tightened along the spoon.

"Severus, you have been quiet lately," Dumbledore observed shrewdly, not asking with words, but yet prodding in his own way for the reasons he sought. Did nothing get past the old man?

Very few in the school realized just how much the Headmaster knew. The Dark Lord was right to fear him, for a tremendous vault of knowledge lay locked away within this elder's keen mind. Spells and secrets, skills learned and honed over many more years than belonged to the enemy he fought so hard against. Severus had known all along hiding anything from Dumbledore would be more difficult than hiding anything from Voldemort. Despite that he did not give in to instinct, did not respond. The Headmaster would recognize some things were not his to know, if even he guessed within that all-knowing heart of his. Soon enough he would understand, or admit to himself the truth, if he suspected. Soon. Too soon.

The Potions Master pushed the spoon from his fingertips, looking away as it made a circle in the cup, sloshing tea over the sides onto the tablecloth. He did not care to clean it, much too tired and lost in his own brooding. His eyes were locked ahead on the entrance to the Hall. In such a focus, he missed the flash of true concern in those blue eyes of the Headmaster. Not that it mattered now, anyway. It would never again matter. Severus frowned as the doors opened, admitting Potter and his lackeys, and he found his glare darkening as he focused on the boy. Such an innocent face. The boy looked exhausted and pale. Perhaps it was well then, that they could not practice in two days, as he had told him. At least he would not be wasting his time attempting to train a weary child that could hardly stand, let alone actually absorb a little wisdom. Severus put his hands against the table, ready to depart breakfast and call the boy out before he would disappear for the day in his dungeons.

A hand on his arm stopped him and he remained seated. Dumbledore did not speak, nor did he remove his hand until finally, shielding his thoughts carefully, Severus turned and faced that crystal gaze of wisdom. "Is there something you wish to tell me about last night?"

There were a hundred things his soul cried out to tell about a hundred nights with Voldemort breathing down his neck, but Severus would never lower himself to do it. He was no weakling child, after all. "No. I have told you everything important," he responded, remaining still despite his desire to move. He was not sure what it was about Dumbledore that could trap a man so without any use of magic, but he supposed that would never change either. Those earnest eyes cared, and in some ways it seemed to hurt him more deeply than the Dark Lord's casting of the _Cruciatus_. And, as always, he hardened himself against it. "You know how it is with him. You know how..._difficult_ these meetings can be."

"No man can serve two masters," Dumbledore whispered softly, almost to himself, and Severus turned a calculating look upon him. The older man gave a wan smile, remembering himself. He nodded, going on as if he had said nothing of consequence. "I understand you are under a lot of stress. If at any time you feel you are in too much danger, you know I would have you refrain."

Snape narrowed his brow irritably. "The information I bring to the Order is more valuable than whatever need for coddling you believe you perceive in me. I am not _that_ selfish."

"No." Dumbledore's gentle eyes were infuriating to Snape just now. Oh, how he hated this feeling clutched around his heart, this tension he could not shake, but without being subject to Voldemort one simply could not understand what it was to go to him and pledge fealty. The Headmaster drew his hand back. "You certainly are not. Perhaps not selfish enough, even."

Cryptic, always cryptic. Whatever the Headmaster was truly driving at was a mystery he did not seem ready to unravel. Severus took that opportunity to stand up, making a hasty excuse, and then stalked away from the High Table. Perhaps he had guessed what was on the Potions Master's mind already, or perhaps he was being his mad self. Snape neither knew, nor truly cared at this moment. Slowing by where Potter sat idly with his friends, picking at his breakfast, Severus allowed his anger to focus upon another target. He stopped and gripped the boy's shirt roughly, shaking him to attention. "Get up and follow me," he hissed, then began towards the door, expecting to be obeyed.

He heard Potter mutter to his friends before scrambling to his feet to rush and catch up, just slipping through the crack Severus left in the large door he had let fall after moving through it. Outside the in the hall he whirled around when he was certain they were alone, then let his eyes fall upon those green eyes of Potter's. Reflected back at him was indignation and confusion. And something else, something strange and personal. Snape narrowed his eyes, forgetting to speak, as he began to probe the surface of the boy's thoughts. There was definitely something going on...

Unfortunately the lessons in occlumency had at least taught the boy to be particularly careful around him. Potter caught on to what he was doing and looked away before Severus could glean much beyond that he filled this boy's thoughts well past the curiosity of being dragged away from his breakfast. He moved closer and reached out, saying in a low command, "Look at me, Potter."

Potter drew his shoulder away from his teacher's touch and shook his head firmly. "No, Professor," he replied, and Severus knew by the tone there would be little he could do to convince the boy to share his thoughts. A detention or any further insistence would incur the Headmaster's interference, so he would merely have to wait and catch the boy unaware. For now Potter's eyes were glued to his hands as he fidgeted. "Was there something you wanted?" he asked, sounding nervous. Oh, now Snape was very interested in what was inside this boy's mind. Very interested indeed.

Where force would not compel him, guile may serve, so Severus did not respond as harshly as he might have under other circumstances. "Yes. I will not be available Monday night. Meet me tonight or we will have to wait until my schedule is more convenient. That may be some time." He had been poised to tell Potter they would continue their private lessons on Tuesday, perhaps, or Wednesday if time permitted, but he was far too curious now, and desired to move their meeting up to tonight. Now weakness _would_ serve him, for in such a state his student would be more apt to forget and let his thoughts betray him.

Instinct motivated Potter to glance up at him briefly, not but long enough for his teacher to capture his secret. He ran a hand through his hair and said a bit shortly, "Sure. I guess. Midnight, I suppose?

Severus quirked an eyebrow and replied sarcastically, "Perhaps we _should_ meet earlier and allow the entire school to see me training you, including Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle. I will send the Dark Lord a courtesy note, telling him that I can no longer serve him for my own safety, of course, and leave explaining to the Headmaster why his single most important spy is no longer in operation to you. Does that appeal to you more?"

Potter rolled his eyes, but still kept from looking directly at him. "Midnight it is. Can I go back to my breakfast now?"

"You may, if you can amend your tone with me. Respectfully, Potter, respectfully."

"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir." The boy crossed his arms and waited for a dismissal.

Grunting, Severus swept away from him and headed on towards the dungeons, puzzling what might be going on inside that boy's head. He was conscious of Potter's watching stare as he opened the dungeon door, and it unnerved him for some reason. It felt like everyone could see through him these days.

Xxx

"What is it with you today?" Ron asked plaintively as they began to leave the Quidditch pitch. It was a bright Saturday, the sun was shining, the birds were singing and Hagrid was putting on quite the show chasing after Abner, but Harry could not concentrate on anything but his own pensive thoughts. He had shrugged off the vision to his friends, telling them he hadn't seen his father, but Hermione wasn't convinced. Her doubts were rubbing off on Ron more and more as the afternoon passed. "You let that beater knock you right away from the Snitch that one play. Don't be surprised if you have a great big bruise or something."

Harry nodded and shook his head absently. "Yeah. I won't."

Ron bumped into him purposefully, knocking him off stride towards the right. "Wake up, will you? What, did Snape tell you he's going to poison you after all or something this morning?"

He might as well have, for all Harry was feeling inside. He certainly felt like the man had poisoned him, even though he steadfastly did not believe one little bit that Snape was even remotely related to him. It was unthinkable. There had to be some other explanation for what he had seen last night. But his thoughts would not leave him be, and the vision he had seen tormented him the whole morning. What had Snape seen in his mind this morning? Had he slipped beyond the barrier before Harry could stop him? No, he couldn't have. If he had Harry felt certain the Potions Master would have reviled him violently and denied him the training he had offered. Yet the teacher was suspicious of something, obviously. That was a certainty that made Harry feel intensely uncomfortable, for he could not see how he could avoid the man's gaze forever.

It was a problem that teased the core of him like a mosquito might bite the unwary adventurer in the woods, little pricks that left itchy spots on his mind. Harry glowered as Ron pushed him off course again. "I'm sorry, Ron. I just have a lot on my mind is all. I told you all Snape wanted was to talk over some lessons."

"You have that Trance on your mind, haven't you?" Ron asked, coming uncomfortably close to the truth of the matter. His friend shook his head and shuddered. "I don't think you should try it again. Not soon, anyway."

"I have to," Harry responded, meeting his gaze gravely. If only he knew why! But telling Ron such a thing would be a disaster.

And because he lacked the vital piece of the puzzle, Ron could not grasp the importance of the Trance to Harry. "Honestly, you don't know how bad you looked, Harry. You scared me! You know I'm not the sensible one in this friendship. That's saying something."

Harry smirked at his friend, but could not give in to such kind concern. "I'm sorry, but I have to follow this through. It's important."

His friend's eyes looked full of a certain recognizable pity, and inside Harry tensed, though he tried not to show it. Ron stopped him just outside the door leading back into the castle. "Mate, maybe it's time you gave it up. Maybe...maybe you aren't supposed to see anything. Maybe there's nothing to see, if you get what I mean."

He got it all right. Harry's gaze turned a bit frosty, as always it did whenever anyone suggested he should let go of Sirius. "I understand. You're wrong," he retorted firmly, then sighed when Ron flinched. This was foolish. The reason wasn't even about Sirius and he could feel himself preparing for a fight. Harry absently rubbed the back of his neck and shook his head, watching Professor Lupin approach from Hagrid's hut. "Sorry. Look, I'll meet you at dinner, okay? I've got something to do before then."

Ron smacked him on the shoulder, then took his Firebolt to carry up to the dorms for him, which Harry let go of gratefully. As his friend disappeared inside his favorite teacher stopped, seeing his gaze. "Hello, Harry. You look a bit preoccupied. Can I do something for you?"

He shrugged, uncertain himself just how far he wanted to go with his curiosity. As Lupin held open the door, he went inside and fell into stride at the teacher's right. "I was curious about my mum, actually." Lupin smiled fondly at the mention, but did not interrupt. "Well, what sort of friends did she have?"

The teacher knit his brow and shoved his hands into his pockets with a thoughtful expression. "Well, she had the usual sort for a girl. Other girls she laughed with when your father did something foolish in front of her." He grinned wryly. "There was a girl in Ravenclaw she studied with. A beautiful girl." A note in his voice betrayed he might have thought a little more than mere notice for that one. "She wasn't like Hermione exactly, hanging around with us boys, though she and I studied together a few times."

Harry nodded, feeling satisfied with that, but still not enough to let go of what he had seen. "What about her, um...boyfriends?"

Lupin widened his eyes and laughed at that. "I didn't make it my business to know many of those, Harry. She was a beautiful girl, though, so I can hardly imagine James as being her only suitor."

"And the one right before my dad?" he prodded curiously.

The other shook his head. "I'm not sure who it was, actually. She was a private girl, so I know very little of her life before dating your father." The Defense teacher inhaled deeply and stopped there in the hall. "Why do you ask?"

The need to know seemed suddenly to outweigh the need to hide what he was getting at. Harry chose his words carefully, deciding to be blunt, but keep his concerns at least somewhat concealed. He looked up into Lupin's eyes, almost pleading for what he wanted to hear. "It's just, I had a...a dream that my dad wasn't really…my dad. It sort of bothered me. I know. Stupid, really. But even now I don't know everything about my parents. Or my grandparents on his side, for that matter."

Lupin stared at him a moment with an unreadable expression, as if weighing the idea or weighing what he was going to say. His silence made Harry nervous, but it didn't last. "Harry, your dream was just that. A dream. Of course James was your father. You're starting to look a lot like your mother these days. you know." The professor paced a little, then turned towards him with a thoughtful look. "Towards the end she always had that pensive expression you're wearing just now, when she thought no one was looking. But that doesn't mean James isn't there either." His eyes traced his student's features. "What on earth would make you pay any heed to such a dream?"

Hiding his gaze as if it would reveal his thoughts, Harry turned away and ran his fingers along the edge of a windowsill. "I just...wondered. Someone else suggested my father wasn't who I thought he was," he said evasively. It wasn't entirely a lie. Snape, by being present in his vision, was inadvertently suggesting his father was not James Potter. It was a rather questionable way of looking at it, but Harry couldn't bear to believe he was outright lying to his last tie to his parents, yet neither could he reveal the terrible thing on his mind. Say it were true, what would Lupin think of him then? He couldn't stand to think of it. Or what Sirius would have thought. He closed his eyes, trying to reassure himself.

Lupin put his hands on Harry's shoulders and drew him around, looking him in the eyes. "Harry, whoever suggested that was wrong. And even if they weren't, would it truly matter now? James Potter loved you and I see him in you, in who you are."

Would it truly matter? He had not expected to hear that. Yes, of course it would matter. It would change everything he understood about himself, surely. "Even if it they weren't?" he repeated, knitting his brow at his friend. "You don't sound so certain now."

"What?" Lupin floundered a moment, running his hand along his hair. He shook his head. "Now, I didn't mean it like that. Don't twist my words to believe the worst. You are James Potter's son, and that's that."

Harry stared his father's friend in the face gravely. "Are you sure?"

There was a brief flicker of emotion in his eyes before Lupin said, "_Yes_, Harry. Now promise me you won't torment yourself needlessly over a dream."

He couldn't tell what that emotion was or what it meant, nor could he promise that he was completely reassured, but his friend sounded certain. He nodded and mumbled a good-bye, then turned before Lupin could say any more. He wouldn't lie. He couldn't. Not Remus Lupin. And yet he himself had given the man a misguided truth, when surely Lupin would believe him incapable of it. Harry felt unhappy he had pursued the subject at all. Why had he even asked? It was stupid. James Potter was his father and that _was_ that.

Xxx

"_Rictusempra__!_"

The moment the word passed his lips Harry had a sudden panicked feeling rush through him. No, no. It could lead to no good, the casting of this particular spell, and yet he had gone on ahead, just like a right bloody fool, and said it. Now it was done, and he was going to pay for it with blood, he was certain. He was going to die tonight, without ever having to face Voldemort. The only trouble was he supposed that might not have been nearly as bad as what was going to happen to him shortly.

He watched with wide eyes, in morbid fascination, as the spell took hold of his victim. There was a thump that seemed unnaturally loud, as loud as thunder to match his thundering heart, as his foe's wand hit the dirt there at the very beginnings of the Forbidden Forest. Harry followed its descent with his green gaze, given keen vision by the light of an almost full moon and the soft orange coming from a window at Hagrid's hut some yards away. And then movement drew his eyes back upwards.

Professor Snape's arms were drawn around himself as if he were suffering the most potent, the most dreaded of pains imaginable. The dark Potions Master sank to his knees, and Harry tensed as his usually straight mouth twisted into a somewhat frightening smile. And then the sound...it was nothing short of terrible. His teacher doubled over in great effort, but could not contain it any longer. Snape began to snicker at first, and that in itself was quite alarming to the young Gryffindor that stood there in the dark, witnessing the event.

But fear, it seemed, did not grant wisdom in such dire circumstances. Harry was transfixed, watching this terrible tyrant before him start to smother in laughter. It was a paradox to the man's very existence, such a vibrant, unguarded display of joy. It was oddly fascinating, and though his wand was pointed towards Snape, and the incantation to end this strange show on his lips, Harry simply did not utter the words. Professor Snape gasped in a breath and kept his head down, trying so very hard not to laugh, but the spell could not be overpowered by will alone. He laughed, and the noise hit the air, carrying along the breeze. He threw back his head and continued to express his forced mirth, but those dark eyes told a vastly different story of emotion than his mouth. He was _very_ angry. In the past hour Harry had done a lot of hexing and had received a lot in return, but this crossed a barrier that enraged the dark teacher.

Hagrid's door opened, and that alone drew Harry out of his trance. Cursing, he aimed his wand again, hissing, "_Finite_," throwing himself down behind a great rock so that his friend would not see him out on the grounds. Professor Snape likewise drew himself into the shadows, concealing himself behind a drooping branch of a nearby tree.

"Anyone out there?" the half-giant called. A moving light suggested he had a lantern with him. Harry swallowed hard, hoping that Hagrid would let it go and not come out here. He chanced a look around his rock and saw the great man looking out along the grounds, searching for the source of what he had heard. The seconds seemed to pass painfully slow before finally he turned back towards his hut, probably having decided it had been his imagination.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief, but gave a start when two hands fell on his shoulders, gripping his shirt and jerking him up away from the rock. He tumbled to the dirt clumsily and scrambled back as the towering teacher stood over him, his wand pointed lethally downwards. Harry gulped, feeling for his own wand, coming up empty as Snape growled, "If you _ever_ cast that spell on me again you will spend the rest of the year in detention! I promise you, Potter, so help me..."

"All right, all right. Never again, I swear," Harry retorted testily, sitting up and dusting his hands off on his jeans. He shoved himself off the ground and grabbed his wand that had fallen a few feet away. When he looked up Snape was still glaring warily at him.

"I don't know what _possessed_ you to use _that_ _spell_, but..." he started, obviously rattled to his core by his own display.

Harry shook his head. "I've learned my lesson, I pro-"

"_Mordere__!_"

He dropped his wand again and curled inward as the now very familiar stinging sensation stole over him quickly. It lasted an uncomfortable few minutes longer than usual before his teacher finally uttered the ending incantation, leaving him to heave a sigh as he snatched up his wand, glaring at the Potions Master. "That wasn't necessary, you know."

Snape sneered at him, then shrugged as he hissed the spell once more. He stopped as Harry groaned, frowning at him darkly, contemplating the cost of casting _Rictusempra_ on him in front of the whole school in the morning. And he let Snape read that fervent image in his thoughts, too, which drew a soft smirk from the man before him. "Always the little Gryffindor, waiting politely for your turn to cast a counter spell. Pitiful. You will never defeat the Dark Lord this way."

Still holding his wand, Harry pointed it with a great effort, trying to cast the self same spell on his enemy, but Snape was too fast and cast a counter, then muttered the _Finite_ spell, which made Harry gasp as the stinging hex left him. He rubbed his arm nonchalantly, but had another idea in mind, growling, "_Mordere__!_" again. This time it hit Snape before he could react and left him standing there, trying not to show that it had much effect on him at all. Harry glared at him, then discontinued the spell on their agreement that no effect should last longer than a moment or two. He fought a yawn and watched as Snape watched him. He had been looking at him all night, forcing Harry to mind his thoughts and keep his eyes away.

He turned his head and just as he did, Snape said, "_Impedimenta_," stopping him dead in his tracks. The teacher cocked his head and started to circle the boy, and at that point Harry knew he had caught the tail end of his last thoughts. "Potter, Potter. Tell me what's on your mind, will you?" His voice was smooth as silk, a threatening tone Harry knew not to heed to.

"Defeating the Dark Lord," he replied automatically, unwilling to give any more than that. He swallowed as Snape stopped right in front of him. If he could have, he would have bolted, but as it was he could only keep his gaze fixated on the ground.

"You're not being entirely honest," Snape observed coolly, reaching down and cupping Harry's chin in his hand. He lifted, and the student immediately resisted, but the spell kept him quite pliable. Harry closed his eyes, causing his teacher to snarl in disgust and push his cheek away. "I will learn your secret, make no mistake. Unless you, by some miracle, learn to guard your thoughts, I will find you unaware and understand whatever it is you are trying to hide."

Harry opened an eye to peek at Snape, seeing him pacing away, probably trying to decide how best to torment the secret out of him. Of all the people in this school he wanted to share that vision with, this man was the last on the list. He would not, _could not_ let him know what he had seen. Harry slowly and uncertainly worked his wand towards the Potions Master's complacently turned form, and in triumph, said, "_Procidere__!_" He watched as the black robed figure toppled forward to the grass.

Snape turned and caught his eyes, but could not recite the _Legilimens_ incantation before Harry squeezed his eyes shut again. He heard the other sigh as he pulled himself to his feet. "_Finite_," set him free. Harry stumbled, then aimed his wand to ready himself. To his surprise Snape shook his head and waved him off. "Enough."

Without another word Snape began towards the castle. Harry wondered if this were some ruse, but decided he was too tired to continue playing games. He hoped the professor felt the same way. That had been close. Snape was definitely on to him. He had to figure out some way of hiding his thoughts or all would be ruined. A deal with Dumbledore or not, he had a feeling that if the Potions Master had any inclination of the thoughts swirling around in the young Gryffindor's mind he would not allow him back into his class, and would probably make his life a living hell if he could do it to spite him.

Yet that same curiosity from earlier tickled at Harry's senses as he took up stride beside Snape. The teacher had his arms crossed, barely acknowledging his presence, and would likely spurn any and all questions directed to him, but just as with the _Rictusempra_ spell something in Harry decided to play with fire. "I know you hated my dad and his friends," he said conversationally, feeling like an idiot doing so with this man, "but did you hate my mum too? She did try to defend you."

Snape huffed a breath, but made no other sign the question perturbed him in the slightest. "She was a Mudblood," he said, as if that explained everything.

Harry rolled his eyes. "D'you honestly buy into that 'Mudblood' rubbish? After all, look at Volde-"

"Hold your tongue, Potter!" Snape warned him hotly, then frowned at him in a very dark way that warned Harry. "What I 'buy into' is none of your business. If you wish to reminisce fondly about your ill-begotten parents, then why not pester Lupin? He would surely be a better source of their foolish hijinks than I would."

"Fine," Harry sighed, frustrated, but not willing to question any further. They reached the castle, and the Potions Master jerked the door open, swooping in and not bothering to give Harry time to enter after. He had to catch the door and push it to allow himself entry, and as he did he watched Snape stalk towards the dungeon without waiting. There was no way that man could be his father. No way.

Xxx

**Author: **Ruse angelruseATgmailDOTcom

**Disclaimer**: Harry and company belong to the wonderful J., whom I thank personally for the deliciousness that is Snape.

**A/N**: -

_Taken from Latin Aid on the Notre Dame website:  
procido -cidere -cidi to **fall** forwards._

Thank you to my reviewers, as always! You guys are awesome. Glad you guys thought it interesting. Writing the vision was fun. Cookies for all and um...M&Ms! ;-)


	12. Fear

**Hidden Things  
**Fear

_Harry becomes involved in a dangerous spell that reveals the frightening truth about Snape and could also give Voldemort his chance to kill him. Alternate Universe - Sixth Year._

xxx

Monday morning, just as the stars were beginning to fade from the sky to be replaced by an orange dawn, Harry was awakened by his scar hurting terribly. He sat up with a groan, his hand moving up to brush back his wild hair. His head was throbbing and his stomach swimming. In truth, he had not felt very well ever since the last delve into the Blood Trance, but this was much worse. Harry searched his thoughts instinctively, as if it would reveal the presence of his enemy within. All summer long Voldemort had remained aloof; perhaps this was the beginning of his return. Still, he could not recall having any dreams that featured the Dark Lord. Not last night, nor any other night in a long time.

His thoughts turned to a most dreaded subject then—Occlumency. Throwing his blanket back and leaning against the headboard, Harry groaned at the thought of it. He had yet to obtain much in the way of skill in that particular talent, but he had no intentions whatsoever of returning to lessons with Snape. It wasn't as if his teacher ever did much of anything besides assaulting his mind. Harry frowned at the thought of it. He could just imagine Snape's reaction to what he currently had locked away in his thoughts. He could _not _go to Snape.

There was Professor Dumbledore, whose teaching Harry could be sure would be beneficial and unobtrusive. At very least he would not rage through Harry's mind without care, stealing his embarrassing moments and taunting him afterwards. Yet there had to be a degree of revelation involved, even in a gentle lesson, he reasoned. What if Dumbledore learned of his delving into the unknown through a trance he was, by rights, not allowed to dabble in? What if he found out about Harry's fears concerning Snape?

_Snape is not my father, _he reminded himself. He stood and fished around for his robes. Still, he wondered at Dumbledore's reaction in such a scenario. The elder would probably not be as angry as one might imagine. He would shake his head, ask Harry to stop for his own good, and assure him that the visions seen in his Blood Trance had been skewed by his connection to Voldemort.

Once dressed, Harry settled back down on the bed and glanced at a book on his night stand. _A Wizard's Way To Duel_ the cover sneered at him. After learning he had not even checked the book out, Snape had given him quite the verbal lashing last Saturday night before training. After having his presence in the teacher's class threatened, Harry had decided he would take the Headmaster's advice about trying to keep cool with Snape. He had checked the book out, but had not looked at it as yet. It was just another duty to add to his growing list. He sometimes toyed with the fantasy of facing Voldemort and gaining instant Auror status to avoiding having to take Potions.

Across the way Neville was stirring. Harry sat down on his bed and started to gather his books for the day, glancing up to greet the other when he had fully risen. "Morning, Neville."

The other boy yawned a response, then started to prepare himself for classes. It wasn't until he was nearly done that any of the other boys began to show any signs of waking. By then Harry had seated himself back on the bed to glance through the dueling book. No one had asked why he had it. He suspected they guessed as much that he was trying to learn defense against Voldemort.

Ron wandered over, slinging his bag onto Harry's bed and depositing himself at the end of it. They still had a few minutes to kill before they were due for breakfast. His friend looked him over speculatively. "You look tired, mate."

Harry smirked at him. "Thanks."

"No problem." Ron scratched his arm, looking a bit concerned. "Really, though. You feeling all right? You haven't been looking too good lately. Ever since, well, you know." His eyes strayed to the little bottle on the night stand.

Instinctively, Harry's hand went to his forehead. He pursed his lips, puzzling through what he was feeling. "It hurts again," he said simply.

The red-head's eyes widened a little. "Been having dreams again?"

Harry shook his head. "No. Not that I can remember. Still, I 'spose it's reason enough to be wary. I haven't felt much of anything until now. He's up to something. _More _than just killing Muggles to get at me."

"What say we go to Dumbledore now, before the disasters happen?" His friend gave him a pleading, but dubious, look.

It would be the smart thing to do under normal circumstances, he recognized. But how was he going to explain the Blood Trance? As well, Snape had warned him not to tell anyone of their training. Not that Harry felt a particular desire to obey the teacher's every command, but though unpleasant, those nights were proving valuable. And he didn't feel the immediate trust he used to feel where Dumbledore was concerned. He knew the Headmaster would never do anything to purposefully harm him, but he still felt the sting of the end of last year surrounding the association.

Before he could give Ron a verbal response, Neville had approached the side of the bed. He pointed at the night stand and said, "What's that?"

Harry and Ron exchanged serious looks. "Er, nothing. A sample of that potion Snape's making me create," he covered smoothly, reaching out for the small, dark vial. He pocketed the Blood Trance potion and gave Neville a wan smile.

The boy shrugged it off and glanced up as a few of the other Gryffindors began filing out of the dorm. "I'm sure you'll do fine." He sounded less than sure about that, but tried to put on a supportive expression for Harry's benefit. "I suppose we should head down to breakfast. I'll sit with you."

Harry nodded, and both he and Ron got up off the bed to follow. He tossed his dueling book down and joined his friends down the stairs. They made a quick trek to the Great Hall, where breakfast was uneventful. By the time they got up to report to Defense Against the Dark Arts, however, Harry's scar _had _stopped hurting, and for that he was grateful. He, Hermione and Ron filed into the classroom, chatting about school for once, and not something dark and sinister. (Ron had reported his scar to her at breakfast, and all subsequent warnings and concerns had been addressed at the table.)

As they sat down for class a certain rapid set of footfalls echoed into the room. Ron groaned without even looking back to confirm it. The shutters slammed shut as Professor Snape made his way to the front. Neville gulped audibly, startled when the teacher whirled around at the front, arms crossed and his eyes filled with the usual disgust. Those eyes trailed to Harry with a searching purpose, causing him to avert his gaze and set his attention firmly upon his Defense texts.

"I've been told you were instructed to write a paper on vampires," Snape announced with a mocking tone to his voice. "On their way of living, no less. On their _culture_, as it were." He snorted derisively. "At the end of class you will leave these useless papers upon Professor Lupin's desk, for I will not be grading them. Today we will discuss actual defense techniques and what situations you may consider using them in. _If _your simple minds can handle such raw information. Apparently, some teachers do not place enough faith in you to even go into it, but I will attempt to drive it into your thick skulls."

"Is it me, or does he seem a bit annoyed today?" Ron asked ironically, his voice kept at the barest of whispers. Harry smirked at him.

Class went more or less as expected from that point on. The Potions teacher was insulting, as always, and by the end of it had taken fifteen points from Gryffindor. They were assigned two feet of parchment on the subject, which Snape insisted be handed in to _him _for grading. The class was a mixture of anxiety and interest. Despite his nasty demeanor, Snape did manage to teach them some interesting things about defense against vampires, and when and why they attack. Harry wished Professor Lupin had thought the class. But last night had undoubtedly been a full moon; he had not bothered to look.

Towards the end of class, Snape called them forward to hand in their previous work for their usual Defense teacher. They went up in pairs; Ron and Hermione, then Harry and Neville. He steadfastly avoided looking the professor in the eye, instead focusing on the ground, which proved a fatal mistake as he neared the desk. Neville was not looking at Snape either. He fumbled through his papers behind Harry, oblivious until the last moment.

When Harry stopped to set his assignment down, Longbottom slammed into him, sending him toppling forward. Both boys hit the floor. The room went silent. But falling wasn't the worst of it. To his horror, Harry's wand and the Blood Trance potion sailed out of his pocket, sliding along the floor towards the back of the room. The chair behind the desk creaked as Snape slipped out of it. Black robes blocked his vision of his belongings as the teacher knelt down, gathering them up in his hands. He tossed the wand down.

Picking it up, Harry stood hastily and dusted himself off. Neville dropped his assignment on the desk and scrambled back towards his desk. Snape lifted the vial of potion, searching the smooth surface for a label. It was not a container that could be seen through. He would not be able to guess what it was without looking inside. "Your O.W.L. potion?" he surmised, slipping it into his own robe.

Harry stood, at a loss, still avoiding the man's gaze. If he said no, then surely Snape would expect nothing less than the name of what potion the vial _did _contain. If he agreed, he would be proven a liar in no time. What was he to do? If Snape learned the contents of the small bottle he would surely find some way of using it against him. It was on his tongue to tell him that it was a sleeping draught, or something equally as innocuous, but before he could, the professor hissed, "I would not have believed you could appear any more foolish than you already had. Get out of my sight, Potter!"

"Professor, if I could just have that back," he said, trying desperately to find the right combination of truths, both spoken and hidden. "My O.W.L. assignment isn't ready, sir."

"Do you want this vial back?" Snape asked him silkily. He leaned forward, lowering his voice so that no one else could hear him. "I'll give it back to you. All you must do is look me in the eyes." Harry could see out of the corner of his eye a self-satisfied smile snake across the teacher's mouth. "Otherwise, I will take great pleasure in grading it _without _it being ready."

His heart started to pound. He could think of no way to get out of this without revealing his secrets and ending up in trouble anyway. No, he could not look Snape in the eye. His pride would not allow it, for he knew if Snape saw what was on his mind it would be a certain disaster. Balling his fist in frustration, Harry whirled around from the desk and stalked back to his seat just as the rest of the class began to ready themselves to leave.

"What's wrong?" Hermione asked him as she eyed his stormy expression.

He shook his head, letting out the breath he had not even realized he had been holding. "He's got the potion."

"The...?"

"Yes. The Blood Trance potion." Harry gathered up his belongings and ran a hand through his hair nervously.

His friends exchanged worried glances. "Oh, Harry, this is bad," Ron said, glancing up at the teacher briefly. Harry followed his gaze, narrowly missing those cool, black eyes at the front of the class. Snape was not about to give up on learning what was going on.

Hermione stood up and motioned them towards the door. "If he won't give it back, there's nothing we can do about it now." They exited the class without another look back.

"Oh, there's something _I _can do," Harry said darkly, glaring ahead of them as they walked. He looked at her when she laid her hand on his arm. "I'm going to have to break into his office and steal it back. He can't find out what's in that bottle."

She gave him a despairing look. "You're going to get into worse trouble if you do it."

"We did it once," Ron countered, sounding a little dubious despite himself.

Harry remembered what he had said after the first break-in. He shook his head at his friend. "No. This time I'm going alone. There's no use in all of us getting expelled."

"Oh, I wish you wouldn't!" Hermione said firmly, her brows narrowed. "If you steal it, he's going to know you did, after all. You're going to get into trouble no matter what you do. I should never have helped you with this."

He gave a grunt in return. Harry leaned against the door to the grounds, pushing it with his back. "Sometimes I wish I hadn't asked you to help," he admitted as they stepped into the breeze to enjoy the outside for their morning break. "But it's too late for that now. I have to do this. I just..." He trailed off, unable to bring himself to speak of the vision about Snape. Not now. Not yet.

She sighed softly, her eyes trailing over him in resignation. "All right. I can see there's no talking any sense into you. But don't you think for a moment that Ron and I won't be awake, watching the Marauder's Map for you." Her lips parted into a pale smile, even though she did not like what was going on. "Tonight?"

Looking between them, Harry nodded, mirroring her soft smile. He could feel a lump in his throat as he repeated, "Tonight."

xxx

Severus rubbed his arm when the signal came. He was seated at the desk in his office, glancing over some Potions essays. Reading the work of First Years was never what anyone could call 'relaxing', but work served to keep him from dwelling on the meetings before they happened. Loyal supporter of Voldemort or spy caught in between the sides, he was sure none of the Death Eaters were ever at complete ease before going before their Lord.

He stood, pushing the papers aside. Tonight he had reason to be particularly uncomfortable. Tonight he was in the spotlight, just as he was last meeting. That gathering had not gone well for him at first. He feared it would be the same at this one. Sleep had not come easily for him these past few days, and suffering the Cruciatus would not aid his insomnia.

Dousing the light from the torches, knowing he would not be fit to return tonight, he exited his office and made his way upstairs. The halls were quiet at this hour, mercifully. He never enjoyed running into anyone before a meeting. His colleagues would inevitably ask where he was bound, and he would be obligated to respond to those that understood his position in the Order. Though he knew they understood why he was going, he never liked saying it out loud.

It was beginning to get chilly outside. The October air was crisp, smoothing along his form in a pleasant way. A night like this could almost deceive him into believing he was not headed to the Death Eaters. It was calm and quiet, devoid of the loud voices of children. He rarely failed to remember nights of sneaking out to practice his hexing on nights like these. He _never _failed to remember following those insufferable Marauders.

Inevitably, entering the Forbidden Forest stole any pleasant thoughts away from him. He stalked through the brush until he felt himself sufficiently far away from the protections surrounding Hogwarts, then breathed a sigh before Apparating into the home of Lord Voldemort. Near the front door he changed into the garb of a Death Eater, unconsciously doing so more slowly than was truly necessary. Once changed, he could not avoid it. Snape entered the familiar room where Voldemort was seated, as splendid as a dark king and as cold as a snake.

Severus knelt before him, bending to place his head on the floor before the Dark Lord. There he waited until Voldemort spoke his name. "Rise, Severus." Shielding his mind, Snape obeyed his Lord, his heart beating a bit faster than usual. Voldemort held his gaze for a long, terrible moment, then began. "When last we met, we had quite a discussion, did we not?" he mused, his white hands curled along the arms of his chair. The other Death Eaters did not dare speak, but Severus could see them exchange conferring glances. "I asked you a very important question and now it is time for your answer. But first, perhaps an old friend may help you realize what the best path for you is." He lifted one of his hands and pointed.

Turning, Snape stopped short when he saw the pale hair, the graceful stance, and the cool, blue eyes of Lucius Malfoy. "My friend," he said, stepping forward. His expression was very uncertain, as though he did not know whether to trust the man before him. "Our Master has told me that your loyalties are in question. He has said you have forsaken us for Dumbledore in your heart. Is this so?" His eyes glinted in the light of the fire in the hearth.

The Dark Lord rarely gives second chances. In fact, the very so-called second chance was being given was not for his own sake. It was for Voldemort's gain, of course. To lose his only tie to Dumbledore was not what he wanted, so he offered Severus another chance to be loyal, another chance to be enslaved. By the end of his usefulness, however, Snape suspected his life would be forfeit. Even with that certainty, that did not change what he thought he must do. He did not know what suddenly made Voldemort question his loyalty, but at the last meeting he had been asked where his loyalties truly lay. "I am in a difficult position," he said to Malfoy, who watched him keenly. "I will admit to nothing other than what any Slytherin would do, in that I am prepared for whatever the future holds. However this war ends, if it ends at all."

All was silent for a moment. Malfoy looked to the Dark Lord briefly, then allowed an unexpected smile to cross his lips. "You imply that our Lord may fail?"

The question was important. Whatever answer he gave would determine his fate. He was going to have to play the game cunningly to survive it. "I... I do not imply any such thing!" he hissed, his gaze flashing.

The next word came from the Dark Lord. "_Crucio_," he said, and Severus fell to the floor. The _Cruciatus_held him locked in chains of agony from which he could not escape. It went on long before Voldemort finally freed him from it. Snape did not get to his feet, but looked up with fear in his eyes. "Severus, are you truly uncertain of my power? Do you believe this child can overcome me?"

"No, my Lord," he whispered raggedly, running a shaking hand through his hair.

"Are you lying to me now?" Voldemort asked him easily, then waved his hand. "_Crucio__!_"

Severus tried, but he could not hold stop from groaning out loudly. He could not think beyond the pain. When it was through he could not even sit up. "Oh, Severus, I never thought it would be you," Lucius was saying. "I trusted you with my son."

"I never betrayed you," Snape retorted, barely able to speak.

Malfoy raised his wand. "You have told Dumbledore things you were told expressly not to tell."

"To keep his confidence, so that I could return with information for our Lord."

"The Ministry went after Narcissa this summer. If not for my cunning she may have ended up at my side in Azkaban. They knew things only a few select could know, including you. If you have betrayed me, Severus, so help me..." He took a labored breath. Fury was written all over his expression. "_Crucio__!_"

He did not know who ended the spell, but when it was done, Lord Voldemort took over. He stood from his throne and knelt down-a rarity. Reaching his long, thin fingers out, he took hold of Snape by the chin and forced him to look up. "Severus, we are a family of sorts, are we not?" He nodded at the Dark Lord obediently. "I will not ask you whether or not you betrayed Lucius to Dumbledore. I will not ask if you disobeyed me and spoke my forbidden secrets to Dumbledore. I will ask, however, to whom do you belong?"

"You, my Master," Severus breathed, swallowing hard. He could see his own terrified expression mirroring in those fiery, red eyes.

Voldemort's fingers tightened along his jaw. "How will you prove this to me?"

His heart pounding, Snape searched himself for an answer that would please Voldemort and save himself. And he knew what he must do. "In eleven days one of Dumbledore's favored is going to meet a vampire in a Muggle pub. I was forbidden to tell you of it, but I do so now to prove to you my loyalty. Next Friday the werewolf, Remus Lupin, will meet with a certain vampire that has been corresponding with Professor Dumbledore at the Rose and Crown in on the outskirts of Wimbledon Village. They will meet in the evening. I do not know if anyone in the Order of the Phoenix will follow, but if so, they will do so unseen. The vampire has been very intent that Lupin meet him alone. If this one were to die, it would not only grieve Dumbledore, but Potter as well. And it would drive the vampire back from making his reports on our doings in their world."

The Dark Lord stood up, gathering his robes around him as he wandered back to his chair and sat once more. "If he is not there on the appointed day, I shall not look favorably upon you, Severus."

Snape pulled himself into a sitting position, finding it difficult to do so. His body felt on fire. "I swear he will be there, or if anything changes, I will report to you right away. You command me, my Lord. Only you."

"Perhaps," Voldemort whispered, still thinking, still toying with this information and plotting with it. "You must do something else for me, Severus."

"Anything."

Those blood-colored eyes fixated on him suddenly. "Lure the Potter boy into the Forbidden Forest that night. I want him brought to me so that he may see his friend die and so that I can destroy him. Do that and you will be gloried among my followers. Fail and I will know who truly commands you."

Severus nodded slowly, a thrill passing through him as he considered what lay ahead of him. He had just sold Remus Lupin out to Voldemort and was now expected to deliver Harry Potter as well. He did not feel as safe as he had thought he would by the end of the night when he entered this house. But there was no turning back. "I will not fail."

xxx

******Author: **Ruse angelruseATgmailDOTcom

**Disclaimer**: Harry and company belong to the wonderful J., whom I thank personally for the deliciousness that is Snape.

**A/N:** Thanks, everyone! Slightly late, but at least it's not as neglected as some of my other stories! (Nor will it ever be!) ;-) Hope you enjoy!


	13. Plans Within Plans

**Hidden Things  
**Plans Within Plans

_Harry becomes involved in a dangerous spell that reveals the frightening truth about Snape and could also give Voldemort his chance to kill him. Alternate Universe - Sixth Year._

xxx

Together in the Gryffindor Common Room with Hermione and Ron, Harry had watched the Marauder's Map keenly that night, waiting to see when Snape would get out of his office. For the longest time he wondered why the teacher had told him they could not practice tonight, for it seemed he was doing nothing out of the ordinary—just sitting in his office, right there at his desk. Not that Harry felt particularly eager to be with the man at any time, but it was a curious thing, he thought.

The night dragged on slowly for the three of them until at last Snape made a move. As they watched him head towards the stairs and then the exit towards the back, it became apparent that he was going to be occupied. The theft of the potion would go as planned. They watched as Snape's name disappeared off the grounds at the edge of the Forbidden Forest. "I don't like this," Hermione said, looking up. "He could come back at any time."

"If he finds out what that potion is then getting into trouble might be the least of my worries," Harry muttered, pulling his invisibility cloak out.

Hermione looked at him dubiously. "I don't see how that could be true. Stealing or brewing a potion you're not supposed to be brewing, you'll still get into trouble. At least if he learns about the Blood Trance potion, you could always say you didn't know you weren't supposed to do it."

Ron exchanged a look with Harry at that little bit of logic, then shook his head. "I dunno, Hermione. What if this Blood Trance is illegal? We never really made sure of that, and well, it could be used to find out all sorts of secrets."

Adamant that she was right, she shook her head. "Breaking into an office _is_ illegal. You're invading his space and at least he'll see that as a personal affront, more than the Blood Trance potion, and work harder at making your life very difficult. At most you could get expelled."

"Who're you to go on about invading his space?" Ron retorted. "You broke into his office once."

"We were children then, and foolish. And look what it got us! Brewing the Polyjuice Potion did nothing but give me a furry face. We didn't learn who the Heir of Slytherin was that way."

"We learned who he wasn't..."

Frustrated, Harry wrung his hands and groaned, "Enough! Hermione, why are you so worried this time?" He watched her intently. She never liked these things, of course, but this seemed unusual for her to go on so. Her voice had an edge to it and he could see something in her eyes that made him wonder.

For a moment she remained resolved, her chin up and her arms crossed, but his pleading look won out. Hermione shook her head softly and kicked her feet against the couch she was sitting on. "He knows some Hellebore was taken and he says he knows we had something to do with it."

"I've told you two not to look into his eyes," he said gently, understanding her unease now. He wished he hadn't pressed the issue.

Hermione looked up quickly. "He didn't have to look into my eyes to know! I didn't look at him, Harry. But he wouldn't have it any other way than to believe we did it. He told me that if anything else was taken... you wouldn't be part of his class anymore. Your dreams of being an Auror would be over, Harry. Don't you see? If you're caught stealing then how can Dumbledore help you out of it? Snape would be right to remove you from class. For all we know he left for a few moments so that he could catch you. Isn't it a little too perfect?"

Of course, she had no way of knowing that Snape had told Harry he would be busy before he had taken the Blood Trance potion away. He did not want to tell her how he knew their Potions teacher would be gone tonight, but her upset expression made him feel guilty. Letting the invisibility cloak fall back from his shoulders, he set it down and paced a little. "He's not. At least I don't think so. Saturday he told me he would be busy tonight, which might mean he's going to the Death Eaters or anywhere else, for that matter."

Ron knit his brow. "Why would he tell you that?"

It was hard for him to say; he didn't know why. To think he was giving up something personal with the teacher was laughable, but there was no real reason for him not to tell them, other than that Snape had told him not to. He did not consider that a real reason to obey, so he forced himself to just say it. "We were supposed to train." Harry looked at his friends.

"Train?" Ron repeated, not quite understanding. Hermione appeared thoughtful, if surprised.

Harry nodded and threw himself down into a chair. "I was training myself one night and he caught me. But instead of being a big prat about it, he actually offered...to train me. So I took him up on it." He rubbed his forehead as the first few whispers of a stress headache started to sing.

Predictably, Ron stared at him a moment, then asked in the most disgusted voice possible, "_Why?_"

Harry glared up at him and before he could stop himself, growled, "Because I'm gonna die if someone doesn't help me! Even if it is Snape."

"Oh, Harry, you're not going to die," Hermione told him softly, her eyes luminous. It was the last sort of expression he was in the mood to see directed at him. Poor Harry, she must be thinking. Poor Harry they would all be thinking soon enough.

He shook his head and gave a bitter, brief laugh. "You don't know what's ahead of me." In a span of a few moments he had told them a secret he had not wanted to and was now skirting the edges of confessing the contents of his prophecy, too. He had not told them about it, not wanting to believe it himself and not wanting to burden them any more than they already were.

Now she looked truly frightened. "Harry..."

Harry lifted a forestalling hand up, then took his invisibility cloak back into his hands. "I'm not going to run out and do anything rash. Don't worry about it right now. Look, I've already wasted enough time as it is. Now he really could be back at any time. I have to do this. I'll replace the Blood Trance potion with my O.W.L. assignment. If I fail, I fail. But it's a chance I'm going to have to take." He gave a wan smile, showing her the bottle in his pocket. It looked the same as his Blood Trance vial. "Maybe I'll actually pass."

"Fine, but we're going to watch for you," she said firmly. "We're going to the bottom of the stairs. You can't look for the potion and keep an eye on the Marauder's Map at the same time."

He didn't like it, but knew he wasn't going to get anywhere by arguing. Just wanting this to be over, he nodded and held the cloak for them all to squeeze under. "You know, this worked a lot better when we were smaller," Ron observed, accidentally knocking Harry into Hermione, trying to fit.

Taking one last look at the map, not seeing Snape anywhere on it, they took off out of the Common Room and down the stairs. Hardly a soul was stirring at this hour, except Dumbledore pacing in his office and Filch walking along the third floor. He was easily evaded, and in no time the three of them stood on ground level. The three of them retreated to a shadowy corner around the side of the main staircase. "I'll hurry," Harry assured them, pulling the invisibility cloak off of them. "If you see him coming, just run."

Hermione glanced at the map, then up at him with that same, resolved expression from earlier. "Don't be silly. If we were just going to run away, we wouldn't have come at all."

"All right," he groaned, then giving them a parting look, darted towards the dungeon stairs. It was dark and cold, as always. Holding up his wand, Harry whispered, "Lumos," to light his way, for it was dreadfully black down in the dungeons, with no light to guide his way. He privately mused that Snape had some shady, evil power that allowed him night vision when he wandered the dark halls.

Truthfully, he felt a bit vulnerable without his map. He appreciated their help, but thought perhaps this would be a lot less worrisome if Hermione hadn't insisted upon following him down. He could only count on them coming to his rescue if Snape returned to the castle. If he were found in the Potion's Master's office it would be nothing short of a horrible disaster.

Coming to the door of Snape's office, he whispered the password, hoping it hadn't been changed. When the door creaked open it offered him little comfort, however. Hermione's warning of this being a trap echoed through his thoughts as he entered and threw his cloak aside.

The first place he went, naturally, was Snape's desk. Holding his wand over it, he searched fervently for any sign of the Blood Trance potion, hoping that the teacher didn't have twenty more potions in vials that looked the same. A quill met his eyes, a pile of assignments and a few potion books, but not what he was searching for.

Harry sighed and moved on, looking through the shelves, finding nothing but strange, gooey substances in glass jars looking back at him. A bookshelf yielded no evidence of his secret potion either. It wasn't here. His heart raced. What was he going to do now? Grabbing his cloak, Harry rushed out and into the classroom, eyeing desktops as he ran by them.

The great desk at the head of the class was empty of any potions; the workstation nearby playing host only to the previous day's work. He ran a hand nervously through his hair, looking around wildly. Professor Snape had to have it on him still, or in his own quarters. Harry doubted he would use the same password there as he used for his office. He would have to try the potions lab nearby, but if nothing came of that, then he was doomed.

But just as he began to turn, the classroom door slammed open. Harry's eyes widened and he prepared himself to get yelled at, but it was not Snape after all. The two forms of his friends rushed to his side. "What the bloody hell are you doing in here, Harry?" Ron hissed frantically.

Hermione ignored her frightened friend, pressing forward to warn the other. Holding up her ignited wand and the Marauder's Map, she moaned, "He's back!"

Gulping, Harry took hold of the map to look. Sure enough Snape was back on the grounds, but there was something odd about his movement. It was slow and halting. "We'd better get out of here," Ron urged, already making room inside the invisibility cloak for himself.

"Hold on," Harry breathed, still watching Snape. He had stopped there in the middle of the grounds. Harry nodded towards the map and glanced at Hermione. "Look at this."

The three of them watched for what seemed the longest time. Even after five minutes passed their teacher had not moved. "Maybe he's hurt," Hermione said gravely, breaking the curious silence.

"Maybe we shouldn't care," Ron countered, winning a glare from her. "Look, maybe he's doing some dark, evil ritual that will burn the school to the ground and kill us all. I say we leave him to it. Let's get out of here!"

"Dumbledore," Harry whispered cryptically, looking for the Headmaster's office. He was shown at his desk, also unmoving. "Come on, Headmaster. Know that Snape needs you."

Ron bumped him. "Maybe we should go tell Dumbledore."

Harry shook his head, still watching Snape's unmoving name. A dangerous idea suddenly came to him. He gave the map back to Hermione and his cloak to Ron, who had a fearful expression. "I'm going out there."

"Are you MAD?" Ron almost yelled, eyes wide as if Harry had just offered to tuck Voldemort into his beddy-bye for the night. "You'll be lucky if he doesn't turn you into a mouse and feed you to Mrs. Norris or Crookshanks." Hermione frowned at him for that.

"Someone has to go help him."

"Someone who isn't you! I'm sure he would probably prefer anyone else in this school help him rather than you!" Grabbing his sleeve to stop him, Ron looked to Hermione for support.

Her face was pale in the white light coming from their wands. There were two answers at war inside of her, Harry though. One would be all for doing the right, selfless act. The other would be what Ron would probably call more sensible—run like hell and forget Snape. She looked desperately uncertain, but her good nature won out. "Go before it's too late," she said, taking Ron's hand off of him gently.

Harry nodded and bolted from the classroom, on up the stairs and down the hall to the door that led to the courtyard. When he exited he did not see Snape anywhere nearby and concluded he must still be down on the grounds. He rushed out into the great yard of Hogwarts, searching the grass until he saw the dark robed form some way ahead of him. Snape was on the ground, face down and not moving.

Approaching with care, Harry held his breath without thinking, intimidated by even the unconscious form of his Potions teacher. "Professor?" he said tentatively, kneeling down.

Snape stirred and Harry started, his heart in his throat. A pale hand grasped the bottom of his shirt, grasping firmly. Harry asked himself if perhaps he _had_ gone mad for coming out here like this. Snape pulled himself up to his knees, rubbing his forehead with his free hand while still holding Harry with the other. When he turned his head he did not look grateful. Yet his voice was calm, if dangerous. "What are you doing out here, Potter?."

He could have said he been at Hagrid's, of course. Hagrid was a professor and had every right to allow Harry to visit him at night. But Harry didn't say that. He was caught in Snape's glassy eyed stare. "I was watching my map. I saw you fall," he mumbled, then tore his eyes away before his thoughts betrayed him too far. "Do you want my help?"

The Potions Master sneered and shoved him away, then attempted to stand on his own. Harry leaned back on the grass, watching Snape stumble on toward the castle. He stopped in the courtyard, falling back against one of the pillars. In the moonlight he looked very pale, and the evidence of great pain creased his brow. Harry took this opportunity to catch up. "You going to spend the night out here, then?" he asked the teacher, standing there before him. A risky way to play it, but Snape wasn't going to respond to kindness.

Taking a deep breath, Professor Snape opened his eyes with a glare. "I am fine. You, however, will have ten points taken for your continued idiocy. Would you like to try for a detention?"

Harry winced, but kept on his path. "I'm still going to help you inside the castle."

"This will not change your grade."

"I'm not doing it for that." He watched Snape shiver uncontrollably.

"_Oh_," his teacher gushed cynically, his brows narrowed in distaste. "How very Gryffindor of you." He rolled his eyes. "Ten more points from your insufferable house!"

Running out of patience, Harry stepped a bit closer and hissed, "So be a Slytherin and take advantage of it." Ron would definitely think him mad if he could hear how boldly he was speaking.

For a long moment Snape said nothing, assessing him coldly. In the end his Slytherin heritage must have won out, for he raised his arm to accept Harry's aid for the time being. He could feel his teacher shaking as he leaned against him. Whatever had happened, it must have been terrible.

It was a slow process, but they made it inside where it was warmer. Snape did not speak to him at all, nor offer him any show of gratitude. At the dungeon door he tried to shoo his student away, but one step down the stairs made him have to catch himself against the railing. Wordlessly, he accepted Harry once more at his side. They made their way down the long hall, then at the Potion's Master's quarters, they stopped.

By the time Harry realized it was a trap, it was too late. Snape began to fall and was caught by the unwary Gryffindor, who found himself shoved up against the door, eye to eye with the Potions Master. "Why did you help me, Potter?" he asked, staring into his bright green eyes. Harry was too stunned to look away as his teacher whispered the incantation that would open the way to all his thoughts.

But he didn't get much of a chance to read Harry's mind. The sudden move had taken his strength, and Snape slumped forward for real this time. He murmured something almost unintelligible, which opened the door at the student's back unexpectedly. They almost toppled in together, but Harry caught him and though it was a great effort, managed to get his teacher into his quarters.

"Get out," Snape growled, shoving at him threateningly.

His mission complete and his teacher safe, Harry saw no reason in the world not to obey. He quickly left, and about halfway down the hall heard the door slam shut behind him. It had been nothing less than what he had expected, but he found himself annoyed with just how ungrateful the tyrant could be. If he truly were on their side, why be so venomous? He just couldn't understand.

Not that it mattered, he supposed. At the dungeon door Harry removed the vial he had taken out of Snape's pocket on the way, having traded it for his probably subpar O.W.L. potion. At least the Snape would not know about the Blood Trance, now. He could assess the true assignment, kick Harry out of Potions and that would be the end of a very terrible relationship that had gone on far too long for Harry's taste.

Out in the Entrance Hall a voice from the dark startled him. "That was good of you to help him. A very selfless deed."

Harry jumped at the sound, then relaxed when he saw Professor Dumbledore at the stairs. "Oh. Yeah. I suppose." He began to climb the stairs with heavy shoulders. Helping Snape had been tiring.

The Headmaster took up stride at his right, joining him in the ascent. "You do not sound so certain," he said quizzically.

"I guess not," Harry admitted, shrugging a little. He looked into Dumbledore's eyes. "If I said I didn't have anything to gain by it, I'd be lying."

"Then you aided Professor Snape for your own good, not his?" The old man quirked an eyebrow. His voice was not judging.

"Well..." Harry stuffed his hands into his pockets, winding his fingers around the stopper inside the mouth of his Blood Trance potion. "I don't honestly know. Both?"

Dumbledore nodded seriously, always understanding. It added to the sinking feeling of guilt churning inside Harry. "Would you have helped him if there had been no other reason than to help him? Or would you have gone to bed?"

Uncertainty wrapped around his thoughts. When he had gone out there, he had known he would walk away with a detention or have points taken away. But he had suspected there was a chance he could also walk away with his potion, too. He shook his head slowly. "I would like to think I would have. I _do_ think I would have."

They stopped at the top of the stairs on the second floor. "Harry, it is important to understand why we choose to help someone and how our reasons might affect them."

Harry suddenly supposed why Snape was not grateful. "D'you think he knew I had something to gain?" he asked.

The Headmaster thought a moment, then shook his head. "Even if he did not know, he would have suspected nonetheless. It is his nature to believe that way. It was how he was trained, by more sources than merely being a Slytherin."

"I'm sorry, Professor." Harry sighed, feeling ready to go to bed and bury his conflicting emotions in a shroud of sleep. He wondered, then, why Dumbledore had not gone to Snape's aid if he knew something was amiss. Obviously, he had known Harry had helped him. But how?

He was just about to ask, but Dumbledore spoke first. "How many points did he take from Gryffindor?"

Harry blinked. "Twenty, sir."

Dumbledore nodded slowly, then smiled. "Then I award ten for a lesson learned. I trust it _was_ learned."

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Hard times are coming, Harry. It would do us all good to try and understand why we choose to do things. And why others choose to do things. In understanding we find compassion, or if nothing else, a sense of wisdom when we've been wronged." His expression suggested the conversation was at a close. Harry supposed the 'whys' of what had occurred tonight had something to do with this little lesson, and the 'how' of Dumbledore knowing of the events were his to know.

As the Headmaster bid him goodnight, Harry did the same and headed on up to the seventh floor. He thought he understood what the older man had been getting at, but also had an unsettling feeling there was more to it. He wasn't sure he wanted to know what that something was.

Xxx

It was about midway through the breakfast hour when Severus woke from his labored rest and found himself upon his couch, curled up in his robes. He opened his black eyes and peered at the torches flickering on the wall. Someone had been in here, but who? He was having trouble recalling events of the night before. He had stumbled out of the Forbidden Forest, the pain of enduring the Cruciatus so many times keeping him weak and pitiable. What had happened then?

Potter. Potter had helped him, damn that little brat! Snape sat up quickly, groaning at the dizziness that swept over him. His head was pounding. Severus pulled himself off the couch more slowly and made his way to the Firewhiskey. There was a note nearby from the Headmaster, excusing him from his first two classes. Tilting the bottle over a small glass, he grunted at that and started to drink down the first pour all at once.

It was midway through that he remembered what he had seen in those eyes last night. The glass fell to the floor, shattering to pieces. Snape cursed himself a fool, removed his wand from his robe, and muttered, "Reparo." The pieces reformed back into a glass, which rolled beneath the desk.

What could possibly be wrong with the boy, he wondered. He had stolen a glance into those green eyes, seeking the reason the selfish little dunderhead had been so keen upon aiding him, and had come back with some sort of strange mix of emotions. The worst of these had something to do with viewing him, of all people, as a father figure. Father indeed! Snape would have laughed, except the idea of the boy latching onto him as some sort of mentor jarred him terribly.

Oh, he knew Potter was an idiot—all Gryffindors had a measure of stupidity—but this simply beat all he had seen. _Him_, the hated Potions Master, the unfair tyrant, a father figure to the boy he treated the worst. How deliciously brainless. Snape wandered into his own personal lab adjoining his quarters to check on the sample he had been testing before he had been called away. Whatever Potter had managed, it was not the potion he had been assigned. He had a few suspicions about what it could be, but only the chemical reaction would tell him for certain. At least the boy was out of his class. Maybe when the boy was physically ejected from the classroom he would realize what a stupid idea his affection had been.

He stopped and peered into the cauldron there on the table, his tired eyes widening as he looked upon a dark red liquid. His mind raced, searching for the name of this potion, the purpose. And then he realized. The Blood Trance. No wonder the boy looked like hell.

Snape removed the bottle from his pocket and took the stopper out, then sniffed. His brow furrowed at the scent. "Clever, Potter," he muttered. The boy had switched the bottles without him even knowing it.

He thought of going now, denouncing Potter at the breakfast table, or perhaps dragging him out of class to do it privately, where he could do it with a little more freedom. It was a fun idea, certainly. But if he did that, or if he kicked the boy out of his class tomorrow, then Potter would not trust him to train him anymore. Snape couldn't have that, of course. He would have to settle for making the boy wonder just how much he knew.

Leaving the little lab, he took his bottle of Firewhiskey into his hand, meaning to 'be Slytherin' and take advantage of his free morning. It would give him time to plan how best to use this information.

Xxx

**Author: **Ruse angelruseATgmailDOTcom

**Disclaimer**: Harry and company belong to the wonderful J., whom I thank personally for the deliciousness that is Snape.


	14. Ostendo Pater

**Hidden Things  
**Ostendo Pater

xxx

For the next week and a half Severus Snape was scarcely seen by anyone but the students in his classes, and even there he was very quiet. He had not lost his attitude towards them completely, of course, practicing his general cynicism at the best of times. But though he himself may not realize it, each biting comment was coupled with something else. Something undetectable by most, but not Professor Dumbledore. He had noticed the occasional gleam in the younger man's eyes. It was a flash of emotion very rarely seen and when manifested, could only be understood as such by one who excelled at judging character in others. Snape was on edge.

Remus Lupin did not consider himself an expert on the psychology of others. Least of all with people like Severus, but he had to admit when Dumbledore had confided his thoughts on the matter, he could now see why the Headmaster would make such a supposition. Lupin had wandered into Potions one afternoon to borrow a few ingredients for a demonstration he was planning to give his own class. Snape had been waspish with one of the timid Third Years; that was not unexpected, but the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher had glimpsed a strange thing after the child scuttled away from the desk of their teacher. Severus had grasped the edge of the desk until his fingers were pale, his brow furrowed and his lips set tight. And the barest of glances had trailed to where Lupin was rummaging around in a cupboard. It wasn't much to go on, perhaps Severus was merely annoyed by his presence, but there was a certain scent in the air that only one person at Hogwarts could possibly detect.

Being a werewolf had it's advantages, despite the terrible curse of living with being one. What Lupin lacked in training about the interpretation of body language, he made up for in the gift of heightened senses and awareness. He could smell something a little bit different than the usual aroma associated with children being intimidated by Severus Snape. It was a nervousness that went further, bubbling just beneath the surface of the rest of the scents in the room.

And not only that, but Lupin had been able to feel it almost tangibly. He rarely failed to predict the coming of a storm, a feat not uncommon in those with animal associations, and there in the dungeons he had felt the tension on the air just the same. Something was going on. He had felt it with every intuitive sense he possessed.

This something coupled with an official reason brought Professor Lupin to the door of Snape's office on Friday night. It was late, he knew, but hoped not too late. A detention with a quarreling pair of Hufflepuffs had kept him overdue. Remus raised his hand, knocked and waited for a few moments until he was called. Within Severus was at his desk, eyes on an envelope before him. When he looked up, he did not appear pleased to see the werewolf friend of his hated enemies.

"A bit early in the month for your usual, I think," he commented sourly, then stowed the envelope away into a drawer.

Remus approached without invitation and seated himself across from Snape, leaning back and crossing his ankle over his knee. "Of course, Severus. I haven't for that, but for another reason."

Snape looked up with glaring eyes. "Which is?"

Reaching into his pocket, the Defense teacher removed a small paper and placed it on the desk. The other man snatched it up rapidly, dark eyes flitting over the written request of their Headmaster. It was only one word. The name of a potion. Severus crumbled the little paper in his hand. "An odd request."

Lupin nodded once. "These are odd times. You are aware of my mission tomorrow night?"

The moment between the question and reply passed just a few seconds too long. Snape leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest. "I am aware of it. I fail to see how this potion is going to aid you in any way, however, given your particular chemistry."

"It is not for me," Remus told him, waving his hand. "My contact requires a little incentive for our exchanges. What he wishes with it, I do not know, nor has Professor Dumbledore confided in me any guesses of his. Can you have it ready by then?"

Severus looked at the paper he had left on the desk surface, then nodded slowly. "I can. It will not cure your little... friend's vampirism, if that is what he expects, however. This protection only works before the victim is killed by the venom and blood loss."

"Then I suppose he must have another intention for it." Lupin sighed at Snape's curt tones. The familiar, vague scent he had caught in the dungeons was back. Eyeing his colleague thoughtfully, he ventured, "You look tired, Severus."

"_Thank you_ for that most kindly compliment," Snape responded dryly.

This conversation wasn't getting off on the right foot. Lupin shook his head. "I'm only inquiring because I'm concerned."

"You needn't be."

"Are you sure about that?" A moment of tension silenced them both before Remus went on. "I can appreciate the terrible position you're in..."

Snape cocked his head, eyes dangerous and interrupted, "_Can_ you?" Dark amusement painted those dark features of his.

Frustration washed over the werewolf. Why did this man have to be so infuriatingly bitter? It bothered Remus to be unable to reach him. "Damn it, Severus, is it really so hard to believe I might genuinely care for your well being? You've spent all your life living in shadows. Perhaps I wasn't a good friend to you in school, but I understand my mistakes now. We all need to grow up."

"Oooh," Snape drawled in a sickeningly sweet mockery of being touched. "And now poor Lupin wishes to atone for his sins."

"You better than anyone else should understand atonement, I should think," Lupin snapped quickly.

After staring a long moment, face unreadable, Snape hissed, "Get the hell out of my office." His hand shot towards the doorway, pointing Remus out.

Knowing when he shouldn't push, Remus respected the other's wishes and headed for the door, pausing briefly to look at Snape, who was still glaring. Lupin sighed. "I do genuinely care for your welfare, Severus, like it or not. It's not too late."

"Not too late to _what_, exactly?" Snape growled, then seated himself once more. Indeed, that was the question. One never to believe the worst in others without due cause, Lupin gave the other man the benefit of the doubt. Yet there were times that looking into those black eyes with their unfeeling cold begged the question—whose side was Snape on? If indeed his hint had hit any mark, Lupin could not guess from Snape's expression as he said, "I will have your potion by the appointed time, do not worry. Oh, and one other thing." It was an afterthought, a bemused summons that stopped Remus with the door half open.

"Yes?"

"Has Potter confided anything strange to you?" Those dark, glittering eyes watched his very carefully. _Always_ _studying, always aware of everything_, the werewolf thought.

Lupin moved his eyes to his hands, fidgeting thoughtfully, debating on what to say. Irritated suspicion won over privacy. "Tthere was something strange. It seems someone gave him the idea that James was not his father. Why do you ask? Was it you that made him think that?"

"Don't be stupid," Snape whispered, but it only a half-hearted retort. Remus looked up and saw the Potions Master's eyes on his own desk. He seemed suddenly more pale than usual. "I think Potter is up to something. That is why I ask." He still did not look up, muttering darkly, "He would only be so lucky if that pitiful excuse for a wizard were not his father, but the idea is preposterous. Complete idiocy."

"You go too far," Remus responded, puzzled by Snape's reaction. He had the sudden feeling he had just walked into some sort of trap in which the man before him had gained information that Lupin himself was not aware of. This whole conversation was leading nowhere he thought it should. "Look, Severus, I won't keep you any longer. But do you have any advice? Is there anything I should know before I go on this mission for Albus?"

As Snape's black gaze seemed to move to his in thought, Remus fidgeted again. "What on earth would I know that you, the Defense Against the Dark Arts expert in this school, would not?"

Lupin shook his head, saying softly, "I don't know." He was wearied of Snape's verbal combat and defensive behavior. Not bothering to say another word, he left the Potions Master to his own thoughts.

xxx

Elsewhere that night, Harry paced the dorm back and forth, eyes straying to the bottle on the night stand. He had not used it since that terrible night and was afraid to even now, but it was getting to a point where he was either going to have to do it or get rid of the rest of it. The sickly substance inside could no longer be seen when peering into the dark bottle, which was lighter in weight than when Harry had last held it. Hermione theorized the potion was probably evaporating. Some potions could expire, lose their potency, or yes, even dissipate over time.

Harry had another idea of what might have happened to some of it. During classes, Snape never said anything directly, but there was something inquisitive about his expression whenever he looked at the student. There had been a few remarks made as well, little things like a glance as he told Malfoy, _'Very good, Draco. It seems I was not wrong in_choosing _to mentor_you' and today, saying, _'I know I am not your_father_, Potter, but if you would simply listen to my instructions...'_ He knew something, if not all of it. And the longer Harry kept the potion in question, the longer Snape had to find it and unravel the whole puzzle. Tomorrow night they would be training again and he had little doubt that at that point the Potions Master would attack to gain his information.

But though part of Harry wanted to simply dispose of the rest of it, another part of him screamed he could not. He had been thoroughly convinced of his own resolution that Snape was not his father, but now he just wasn't sure. Especially not after Snape had chosen that particular word to aid his sarcasm this afternoon. Father. What if? _What if?_ Pausing near the bed, he stopped and looked at the potion with a measure of resent. Why had he listened to Ron? Why did he have to get himself into this mess? He resisted the urge to kick the night stand.

"Mental, he's gone," Ron said mildly to Hermione, who was petting Crookshanks on the red-head's bed. The three of them were alone. "It was bound to happen, I suppose. One too many hits on the head. Bludgers, you know."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Oh, Ronald." Her chocolate eyes flitted to Harry in concern. "What's wrong anyway? You've been nervous all week. You have the potion back. You _know_ it's the Blood Trance, right?"

Harry nodded and sat down on his own bed. "It is. I'm sure of it. You're sure of it. We looked together."

"Then why are you so afraid?"

Silence descended upon the room as he tried to figure out how he could answer them. He had thought it would grow better, this uncertainty twisting inside of him like he had swallowed a snake. He had thought he would forget the vision he had seen, dismiss it in his heart, but it was only growing worse. But to tell them? That he could be... No. He couldn't be Snape's son.

A form imposed itself at the door, knocking lightly on the wood. Startled, the three students looked up quickly, finding Professor Lupin standing there in the threshold. "May I?" he asked gently, seeming to sense the disquiet in the room. Harry nodded wordlessly and ran a hand through his messy hair. He made room for Lupin on the bed, but the Professor did not sit down. Instead, he nodded towards the door and said, "I wonder if I might have a private word with you, Harry?"

Hermione and Ron looked even more concerned now than before. Exchanging glances, they slid off Ron's bed and left quietly. Last one out, Hermione gave Harry a reassuring glance, then disappeared down the stairwell. The silence in the room grew deafening. Harry looked up into his teacher's eyes, unable to quell the growing unease taking hold of him. There were any number of things going on he wasn't quite sure he was ready for Lupin to know. "Can I help you, Professor?" he managed.

Lupin retreated to Ron's bed and sat down. "I'm not sure. Harry, are you up to something you shouldn't be?"

His first impulse was to shake his head. So automatic was the instinct that he did, in fact. But he knew Lupin was not fooled by the measuring gaze he was rewarded. A distinct disappointment flashed in his eyes, and Harry decided to give a little. "Yes, I have been doing something. I can't deny it."

"You…know you can trust me with anything?" the Professor said a bit haltingly, as if trying very carefully to choose his words well. Of course he could be trusted with Harry's life. Harry made no argument against that. Anything the man did would be for his own good. He knew that, but what if this Snape thing was too much? What would they think of him? What would he think of himself? Harry couldn't stand to consider it, but even still knew that if he did not get to the bottom of this, it would eat him away inside. He was having more trouble in Potions than ever.

A shaky breath drew into his tight feeling lungs as he decided he could not afford to keep this secret hidden anymore. Not from everyone. "I know I can." He knew, but was still reluctant to speak of it. Little bits of information, little increments given with careful observation of the other man's reaction, that couldn't hurt, could it?

"Would you tell me, then, what is going on? Would you trust me that far? I was a Marauder, after all." A bare smile touched his mouth. "You know I'm not going to see you punished unduly."

"It's not even that," Harry said, his voice thick and so unsure. He had to take another breath before he was even sure he could speak it. "What if James wasn't my father? What if I _knew_ he wasn't?"

He heard Lupin sigh as he stood up, pacing much as Harry had a few moments ago. "If that were so, then I would care for you no less. I would have hoped you would know me better than that. But I just don't think..."

"Don't you?" Harry looked up sharply. "How can you be so sure?"

The Professor eyed him for a long time, a battle between secrets and trust going on inside Remus, Harry was sure. It was then he realized Lupin wasn't as certain as he had seemed. "All right, Harry," he said evenly, coming to sit beside him. "I can tell for you to trust me, I am going to have to show equally that I can trust you. The truth is, when you were born I wasn't sure. _Wasn't_, Harry. Pay attention to that word. For a long while Lily was very sad. In fact, the day she learned she was carrying you did not lighten her mood as I thought it must. I came to a very difficult conclusion, Harry. I am not proud of it."

"You thought I didn't belong to James."

Lupin nodded slowly. "I thought perhaps... You see, Sirius was a close friend of theirs as you well know. As was I, but I knew she had never expressed any interest in me. Nor would I have allowed her to give into that if she had after James. So Sirius was the most logical conclusion I could make."

Harry's heart pounded. His chest hurt unlike anything he had ever felt before. Lupin had thought Lily and Sirius were carrying on an affair. The idea gave him mixed emotions, but it didn't add up to what the Blood Trance was showing him. "Did you ever ask either of them?" he demanded, a little more shaken than he had prepared for.

The teacher pursed his lips, looking very uncomfortable now. Had he learned from Lily that she had been with someone other than James? Remus stood up and wandered across the room. "I confronted Sirius, Harry. I would never dream of asking Lily something like that. Not unless I was certain. It would hurt her too much if I were wrong." He turned back, leveling Harry a very firm look. "Sirius denied it and I believed him. He was very angry with me for even asking. And you don't look like him, now that I see you older. That's all there is to it."

"But what if you're _wrong_?" Harry snapped before he could stop himself. Lupin's wide-eyed stare made him sigh. "I'm sorry, but I'm just not so sure."

"What makes you so certain that James is _not_your father?"

The information was being pried out of him too quickly now, he had to hold off before he said too much. "I never said I was _certain_..."

"Then what makes you suspect?" Lupin wasn't going to leave it alone, however. It was too much weight to bear.

It came out in a rush. "The Blood Trance!" Harry rubbed his forehead and angrily motioned at the bottle on the nearby table. He hated whoever made the stupid concoction. "It's a trance drug. It shows you what you want to see."

He did not see Lupin's bright, shining eyes glaring at the bottle in revulsion. "Oh, I know what it does, Harry. And you should not be using it. It's dangerous!"

"But don't you see, I have to if I'm going to find out who my father is!" Harry snatched the bottle quickly, turning it over in his hands. "I _have_ to know."

Remus stared at his hands, as if he might somehow get the potion away from him. "This is a powerfully dark potion, Harry. You don't know what you're getting into. Have you used it at all yet?"

"Yes, I've used it. I tried to see Sirius." The Professor flinched, then sighed in understanding. A new sense of mourning washed through Harry. "I tried to see my father, too. It wasn't James Potter I saw."

"You uttered the incantation wrong," Lupin assumed.

"_Ostendo Pater._ I concentrated on trying to see my father and was led to someone else."

"Who?"

Harry shook his head, turning away with a shamed look. Snape could not be his father. He could not be. Not the man that hated him most. Not the man he hated. "Let me use the potion one last time. If it doesn't work out, I'll forget it completely. I swear."

Professor Lupin sank down once more upon Ron's bed, leaning his elbows against his legs, watching Harry for a very long time. A new wave of weariness seemed to wash over the man. "The Blood Trance potion is dangerous. It's a poison, Harry. The poisonous effects are required to put your mind into such a state as to be able to extract the visions you see. Drink too much and you could become seriously ill, or even die."

"I only have a little left," Harry persisted, desperate. "Madam Pomfrey, or even...even Snape could help if it comes to something going wrong. Please, Professor. Remus. For my dad's sake."

No amount of begging could make the werewolf appear like he liked the idea, that was for sure. Remus pursed his lips into a straight line, glaring at the bottle in the boy's hands. "I don't like this, Harry. I'm inclined to deny you right now. But I see how important this is for you. Let me drink what you have left. Let me see if I can find out who your true father is."

Harry's heart sank as he shook his head. If Lupin refused him, he would never know. "I have to see for myself. If you never let me do anything reckless again, _please_. Let me do this. It's only been a few times. I'm not dying."

The breadth of time between the question and the answer was filled with such tension Harry felt he could scarcely breathe. But in the end, he saw it in Lupin's eyes before he even said a word. "If you're anything like your father, _James Potter_, Harry, then you're going to do this whether or not I take the potion from you. As I don't want you doing this unsupervised, I will allow it now on the condition you agree never to try this again. The Blood Trance draught lasts in your system for years. You could end up killing yourself later on."

"Thank you," Harry breathed, greatly relieved. He took the stopper out of the bottle, fully prepared to see this through.

"Lie down, Harry," Remus ordered quietly, still looking very unsure. He glanced towards the stairs. "If anyone comes up I must tell them you collapsed with a fever. You will have to simply endure any embarrassment that may cause. I am staying for observation. Concentrate on the moment of your conception. It is nothing you'll want to see, I'm sure, but it's the only way to be certain. Your father at conception, Harry. Remember that."

Obeying immediately, he did as the teacher told him and laid back, feeling a little churlish about the cover story, but not willing to argue. He was nervous about what he was going to see, already feeling sick at his stomach because of the fear he would see Snape again and the disgust at trying to see his own conception take place. It made him hesitate long enough for Remus to watch his eyes, hope reflecting back that Harry would stop this foolishness at once. But he was determined. With a shaking hand, Harry lifted the bottle, drank and muttered, "_Ostendo Pater._"

The world began to drift away from him. Harry had not even realized he had closed his eyes. Dizziness caused him to waver, making a scene of trees to blur into nothingness. But something caught his attention, something he had heard during his last vision. Chimes in the distance. Harry gritted his teeth and resolutely forced himself to think of his father and the idea of him creating life.

In the darkness he saw a single flame come to life. Harry watched it dance, illuminating a wall on one side and being drowned out by a starry blackness on the other. Harry wandered towards the candle and reached out, running his fingers along the fire instinctively. It did not burn. "Dad, where are you?" he whispered. His voice echoed as if he were in a cathedral. The chimes jingled again and there was the sound of wind, but no visible evidence of either. He touched the cracked, gray wall shining in the candlelight. It fluttered to pieces.

A sound compelled him to turn around. "What do you want of me?" asked a very harsh sounding voice.

He followed that voice into a hallway that seemed to trail on forever. Little snakes crawled on the ground with him, black little strips of scales shuffling through dead lily petals and thorns on a scuffed looking wooden floor. At the end Harry found a small room with bookshelves lining the walls. And a black form. He was not wearing the traditional robes he wore in school, but something very similar. His dark hair was a shroud along his face, obscuring much of his expression. Except for those black, glittering eyes. They were fixed on a form across from him.

Harry turned seeing a woman standing there, with long red hair and telltale eyes. Kind eyes, concerned eyes. Lily held her hands together, resolve written along her beautiful face. "Please, Severus. I know the circles in which you travel. You don't have to do this. You don't have to make this choice."

The choice had already been made, it seemed, from the look of dark certainty on Snape's expression. Those eyes were not the eyes of a bitter teacher that hated his enemy's son. Those eyes were ashamed, longing, dead. At his feet Harry could feel the little snakes winding along his ankles, wrapping themselves around as if to drag him down to his knees. Another wave of nausea threatened his concentration, causing all but the voices to blur for a bare moment. As if echoing that Snape whispered, "Just go." It wasn't an order, nor a hateful unfinished threat. It was a tired sounding noise as if he could not force the woman before him out of his presence even if his life depended on it. "Go back to your…_stag_."

"We've been friends since we were children," Lily replied, and the information rocked Harry. She didn't move, nor would she be moved. "You must know I'll always have love for you. I'll stop you from this path, Severus. I'll save you from him."

A bitter laugh hit the air, reminding Harry of just who he was watching. _Dad_, Harry whispered, pushing his mind. Shadows seemed to crawl around and caress his mother, and the sight of it made him sick. The laughter died on Snape's lips almost as quickly as it had come. "You don't know you're getting into. You don't know how deep I'm in. You have a future. Go to it." Regret seized the air and Harry felt physically heavier. "Let go of me."

His mother now moved forward, her pale hands reaching, tangling into his, pulling them near her heart. "I love him," she breathed, nakedly admitting the truth, causing Snape to look away. "I have a pathway, but I will follow you down yours until I bring you back. I won't…" Snape tried to pull away, the walls he wore around him clearly faltering as Lily reached up to touch his face. "I love you. I won't let you go. You're my best friend. And I'll always love you."

When her voice broke so did his resolution. He kept his eyes away from hers, looking for a way out even as they grew moist. Lily wouldn't let him escape, wrapping her arms around his waist, and letting out a shaking breath Snape crushed her to him, snaking fingers through her hair. He rested his cheek against her head and whispered, "Damn you, woman." Those dead eyes glared out the window as black flower petals fell like snow. A snake crawled along the windowsill, tongue flicking and tail rattling. Water found Snape's cheeks. "You don't know what he's like, what he'll do. You…you have no idea the things I've done. My god, if you knew…"

"It's okay," she answered his despair, pulling back to look up into his shining gaze. Her fingers swept his cheek of its grief. "It doesn't matter what you've done. I'll _always_ love you." Numbly, Harry watched as his mother drew this hated man to her, pressing her lips against his. "_Ostendo Pater,_" he whispered, wishing the scene would change, but it didn't. Snape did not throw her from him as Harry wished he would, but allowed the kiss to continue into something more than a mere peck.

Here was the proof and felt as dead as Snape had looked. He had no desire to see anything more. One of the snakes at Harry's ankle bit into his flesh as he shoved seeing his father as far away from his thoughts as he could.

When he awoke with a start the bite still ached, but Harry couldn't think straight enough to care. He sat bolt upright, caught by the hands of Professor Lupin, who called his name. Harry couldn't respond. His heart was racing and his lungs deprived. He coughed hard, murmuring thoughtlessly, "How could she? How could she?" He barely registered Hermione and Ron looking down at him until his female friend spoke.

"We've got to get Madam Pomfrey," she said urgently, waking Harry from his thoughts.

His hand darted out to grasp at her robe in desperation. "No!" he hissed, eyes flashing darkly at her even as he fought another storm of coughing. "No one...can know!"

"Harry, you've got to calm down. Take deep breaths," Lupin said gently, trying to hold him. He looked positively white with worry and regret for letting it go this far. "You need a healer. Would you prefer Professor Snape? He'll know what to give you and he won't ask questions. I'll make sure of that."

The look Harry shot Lupin must have been much more venomous than he had planned, for the teacher started for a second, then looked poised to hold Harry down against his will. Gasping in another breath, Harry shook his head. "No, don't. I'll be fine. Don't worry." He forced himself to calm down.

Lying back, he closed his eyes and covered his mouth, trying not to cough, but could not stop for long moments. He felt Lupin touch his forehead to check for a fever, then heard the man sigh, "I'm a fool."

Harry grasped at the teacher's sleeve. It was vital Lupin tell no one. He couldn't tell Snape. He just couldn't! "I saw what I had to." Another gasping breath fought its way into his lungs as he concentrated on breathing. "I'll be fine. I was last time. Just...need sleep."

"Harry, I still think..."

"No!" He coughed hard and had to rest a moment to regain his strength. "No _Snape!_ No Madam Pomfrey. Please. I'm calm."

Looking haggard with worry, Remus shook his head and took the bottle from the blanket where it had landed. "If you're not better by tomorrow afternoon, I'm going to take you to Madam Pomfrey, if I have to drag you there forcibly. Do you understand me, Harry?" His voice was sharp, angry because of the fear he must feel.

Harry squeezed the man's arm gratefully, nodding his head. He would have to be well by then. There was nothing else he could do. There was no way he was going to be questioned by anyone about this. There was no way he would _answer_ anyone if they did ask.

"You have your morning classes off tomorrow. I'll write you a permission note and your friends will gather your assignments. Now you're going to go to sleep." There was no order he would rather obey more. He felt Lupin's weight lift from the bed, even as he closed his eyes. But before departing, his teacher had one more question to ask. "Who was it you saw in your dream? It wasn't Sirius, was it?"

"No," he found himself replying without thought, then cursed having given that much away. But he was so tired. So tired and so terribly numb with shock inside. It couldn't be true, but it was. Unless... "Are the Blood Trances ever wrong?" he whispered opening his eyes slightly.

"It could be wrong if you didn't do it right," Lupin said, but did not look hopeful. He gave Harry a pleading look. "Who was it?"

Harry could barely suppress a sour little laugh that sounded harsh against the quiet of the room as he answered, "Not James Potter." He closed his eyes again and no one spoke to him afterwards. Lupin left and the curious Gryffindors he had not even known were there filed back into their beds, chattering softly amongst themselves. He couldn't bring himself to care how he looked just now. Sleep did not find him easily.

xxx

**Author: **Ruse angelruseATgmailDOTcom

**Disclaimer**: Harry and company belong to the wonderful J., whom I thank personally for the deliciousness that is Snape.

**A/N**: - I've changed this chapter since I wrote it, most notably the scene between Lily and Severus, to reflect the direction I'm going to make the story take now through my revisions.


	15. The Tempest Unleashed

**Hidden Things  
**The Tempest Unleashed

xxx

Darkness had fallen upon the castle long ago, dragging the hours slowly toward another dawn. Night embraced the school comfortably for the better part of those within. The students were fast asleep in their beds, the teachers secure in their quarters by now after a long day of work. Most of them, at any rate. Professor Dumbledore was off the grounds, following Professor Lupin as near as he dare on the dangerous mission before him. It seemed rather odd to Snape-who was not tucked away this night-but he spared it little consideration. Whatever tension that would arise in any failure to apprehend Lupin would be smoothed over, or would end in death, as always.

A great crack of thunder echoed through the dark halls as he paced the seventh floor before the entrance to the Gryffindor dormitories, waiting restlessly for Potter to meet with him. He had not been to classes, nor to any meals that Snape had seen. The little brat could not stand him up! Not this night of all nights! The teacher stopped and glared at the painting of the Fat Lady, who was sleeping and would not wake for him, no matter what he did. The windows flashed and another great rumble filled the air. Growling, Snape whirled and began to pace again. He was not going to stand for this. Potter would come out of that room if he had to fly up to the window on a broom to collect him. He felt on edge. If the boy failed to come to him...

He glared at an anonymous painting across the way, not really seeing what was there, but seeing in his mind's eye the face of Harry Potter. Harry Potter, who had used the Blood Trance draught. Harry Potter, who thought that his father was no longer the hero he had once painted him as, but the hated, ugly monster that lurked the dungeons. No, he was no son of Snape's. The teacher rolled his eyes in disgust at the very idea the boy harbored this foolish assumption that he had done the Blood Trance correctly and received a truthful result. He would have to put these ridiculous notions to rest in the most brutally honest way possible. It took sexual relations to have children. He and Lily had had none. End of story.

And then it happened, causing Snape to tense in expectation. The door to the dormitories creaked slowly open. The teacher turned, arms crossed and eyes alight in anticipation for the subject of his thoughts. His desire to berate the boy was dashed, however, when a fifth year Gryffindor stepped out. The child shut the door, then stopped short upon seeing the dreaded Potions Master standing there in the shadows. He had the appearance of a deer caught by a hunter in the woods, shivering with wide, frightened eyes. "P-professor S-snape, sir. Um, I... that is to say..."

Snape dug his nails into his palm. It was all he could do to keep from exploding at the boy in rage. "Ten points from Gryffindor," he hissed, glaring hard at the boy. He thrust his arm towards the painting on the wall. "Get back to your dorms at once! And tell Potter to get down here right now or he'll be in detention for the rest of his miserable life!"

"H-harry Potter, sir?" The boy blinked his eyes several times.

His nerves got the best of him. Severus threw his arms up and boomed, "Is there another I am unaware of? Get moving or I'll deduct another ten for your sheer lack of brains!" The hour was growing late.

The boy paled and mumbled the password to a very grumpy looking Fat Lady, who was glaring daggers over the young Gryffindor's shoulder. Snape catalogued the overheard password in case Potter had trouble finding his way out. He paced to the banister and raked a hand through his long hair. It was only when he drew that hand back that he noticed the tremor. Contemptuously glaring at the display of weakness, he balled his fist. This was foolish.

Again the telltale creaking of the door announced that another Gryffindor was exiting. Potter came out with a surprised expression, looking rough, as if he had just risen from his bed. His skin seemed much too pale in the moonlight. There was distrust and resent in his eyes. "_Professor?_" Potter inquired, curling his hand along the threshold between the outside and the common room.

Snape raised his chin and gestured at the boy's rumpled appearance. "Shoes? Wand? Did you forget that I was devoting my private time to your training? Will a detention remind you better?"

Potter shook his head, hastily pushing the door closed completely so that none could hear. "I didn't forget, sir. I just... D'you really want to train in this?" He gestured towards the darkness surrounding them. The rain was falling heavy outside, the thunder rumbling distant but near enough to hear. It was utterly wretched outside. Lightening flashed along the windows. "I would have thought you would have deducted points for me merely assuming you would."

Waving his hand in dismissively, Snape leveled the boy a hard, warning glare. "Collect your things, Potter, if you're not afraid of a little water, that is. No Death Eater would worry over a little trifle as the weather if it meant he could get to you."

A long moment passed between them. Severus could see within those brooding green eyes a loathing he had never before known from this boy. It was strong and defiant, too passionate to be penetrated by a mere glance. Harry must have realized he was in danger of giving away his secrets, for he jerked his eyes away and hauled himself back into the dorms without another word. He was not quick in his preparations, leaving Snape to wonder whether or not the boy had outright defied him, until at last the door swung open once more. Potter exited, his eyes averted, expression bordering on hostility. He was fully dressed.

The two of them began the long descent downwards, at first in silence, but Snape's curiosity got the better of him. In the long run, Potter's anger did not really matter, but he could not refrain from asking, "Is there a problem? Did I rouse you from your beauty slumber?"

"_No,_" the boy responded coldly.

Snape snorted at his failed attempt to goad the boy. Potter held his tongue all the way down to the ground floor. He would have to do better if he was going to get to the bottom of this. It was as they wended their way towards the exit towards the Dark Forest teacher thought to take his interrogation into a new direction. "So, you have delved into the Blood Trance," he said in an offhand manner, hoping the abrupt entry into the subject would throw Potter off guard.

It did. Harry stopped in the hallway halfway towards the exit to the grounds. Snape folded his arms into his robes, turning to regard the boy, eyes alert. "So you knew?" Potter asked in disbelief. Foolish boy. "All this time you knew?"

Curling his lip into a sneer, Snape nodded his head once. "Of course I knew. Do you honestly think I would trust you enough that I would _not_begin to test your potion right away? I knew there would be some foolhardy attempt to retrieve the bottle you so desperately did not want me to have. And I was correct. Your aid from the other night simply touches me, Potter. How _noble_ of you to come to my rescue so you could violate my person and _steal_from my pockets when I was weak."

He began to stalk away, listening keenly to make sure the Gryffindor followed him. Predictably, Harry did and had further words to say on the matter as Snape jerked open the door. Mist swirled over them as they walked together down the long, wooden bridge towards the circle of stones. "I needed that potion," Potter growled back at him. "I'm sorry I had to do it the way I did, but you would have never given it back to me."

"You are right about that." They stopped right before the roof gave way to the natural sky above, remaining sheltered for a moment longer. Snape glared down. "Of course I would not have, you stupid boy. That potion is poisonous. You look like complete hell and it is no wonder. We're going to the Forbidden Forest. It's time we took practice to a further level. Come."

Potter cursed when the rain finally blasted them, immediately drenching both teacher and student. Snape frowned at the miserable weather. It seemed to echo every feeling he had inside.

At the edge of the slippery grass, right before the Forbidden Forest, Potter surprised him with a sudden question. It was delivered in a tone so soft he scarcely heard it above the rain, but when it did penetrate to his ears, it made him gasp in a sudden breath. "Did you know my mother well?"

Snape stopped dead, jerking his head to the side to regard the boy with a dangerous glare. Potter flinched at such terrible scrutiny. He tried to pull away as the teacher darted his hands out to grab him, but the struggles he put up were all in vain. Snape jerked the boy close to him, staring down into those jade eyes, willing all of Potter's secrets to the surface of his thoughts. "_Legilimens_," he whispered, and Potter stood in thrall as a victim before a vampire makes the kill. Perhaps he wanted the truth too badly to hide anymore.

There was true anger behind those eyes. Confusion and unbearable, searing pain, as if the world had come crashing down around him. He truly believed it. Severus fought the urge to laugh and thrust the boy away from him. "So, Mr. Potter believes his daddy is alive after all, does he?" Potter winced as Snape dug his fingers into his arms. His display of pain angered Snape all the more. "It disgusts you, the thought that you could have been beget of me, doesn't it?" This time he did laugh, and the sound was an acidic sound. He pulled more and more from the boy's mind, seeing images of Potter brewing the Blood Trance, nonsensical images of a distorted Hogwarts, the student waking up with a violent cough.

And something else. A residence on Spinner's End. His fingers tightened when he heard his mother's chimes echo in the boy's mind.

"No!" Potter growled as more and more became unraveled. He began to fight the onslaught of Snape's search as the content became more personal, battling both physically and mentally. He shoved hard at the teacher, nearly knocking him back, but Severus held on tightly. He could feel the beginnings of the boy's minuscule skill in Occlumency begin to come into play. Potter fought him like a trapped and tormented rabbit. But it was not enough to stop the tide.

A feminine voice came into Snape's thoughts like a soft angel whispering his name. Asking him to turn from his path, coaxing him to leave his dark friends and his dark future. Filled with several emotions at once, the Potions Master stared hard, hissing, "Very amusing, what you entertain in that thick head of yours, Potter! But there is one little bit of truth that will solve this problem for both of us! I never _touched_ that Mudblood woman of your father's! Not ever!"

Potter drew his fist back and sent it into Snape's jaw hard, finally finding an outlet for the fury that was building inside. The metallic taste of blood and the warmth of it spread along his bottom lip as the boy retorted, "Don't call my mother that." It was the darkest sounding thing Potter had ever uttered in his presence. Rage suffused his voice.

Severus jerked his head back to the boy, whipping his drenched hair out of his face. Lifting one hand to his mouth, he wiped the blood away, and reached into his robes to grasp his wand with the other hand, saying, "I can't decide what's worse, you thinking I would ever stoop to touch her or you thinking I could have fathered an idiot like yourself!"

"I saw it in the Blood Trance!" Harry snarled, sounding like a wounded animal. "She loved you and you turned her away! _Although not fast enough_, apparently!"

"Nonsense!" Snape flared back, still holding his wand, conscious the seconds were ticking away like the dripping water covering them both. "Are you that stupid, boy? Do you honestly think your mother would have _me_ when she had that great oaf licking and his two pet dogs licking the ground she walked on? You _obviously_ did the trance wrong! Now get moving before we find ourselves out here by sunrise!"

But Harry was not moved by his response or his order. He stood, staring, rain flattening his hair to his head and the cold causing him to shiver. He was beginning to look ill. "My mother loved James, but she loved you too. I know I did the Trance right. Do _you_ honestly think I want to believe this? I'd just assume I'd never learned what repayment you gave to a woman that stuck by you no matter what, that she... We're done. I'll never bring it up again. I'm going back to my dorm."

Severus jerked his wand out of his robe as the boy turned away, but a chuckle from the woods nearby stopped both of them. Both of them followed the sound and saw a pale face framed by long, equally pale hair. The newcomer was sporting a deadly, malicious smile. Lucius Malfoy looked between them, his eyes alight in amusement. "So it is true." His gaze fixed on Potter, who looked stunned by his arrival. It didn't surprise Severus that the Dark Lord would send anyone after him to make sure this got done. "I'd always wondered what if... Having trouble, Severus?"

Pushed to the brink, Snape jerked his wand towards Malfoy and hissed, "Shut up, Lucius. You know nothing!"

"Oh, I know more than you could possibly imagine." He was halfway through a self-satisfied smirk when a sudden flurry of movement caught both of them. Potter had drawn his wand on Malfoy and was now uttering the blasting curse. Lucius fell back with a great thud, giving the boy time enough to take rush on swift feet for the castle.

"Do you know what you've cost me with your foolishness?" Snape growled at his fallen comrade, pointing his wand at Potter. He hissed the stunning spell, but it flew past the boy, missing him. Desperate now, Snape took off towards the boy, only vaguely aware of Malfoy chasing behind him. What _did_ he know? Lucius was hardly one to claim ownership of knowledge he did not have. It confused the Potions Master, for he knew quite well he had never touched Lily Potter. Nor would she have ever allowed him to do so. His fist tightened around his wand.

Potter made it beneath the shelter of the bridge. The door would only be a quick run for him. Behind Snape, Malfoy yelled over the blustery storm, "It's over, Severus! He's escaped!"

He had no time to reply. Everything went black.

xxx

In the darkness, between the great columns, Harry had stopped near the entrance to the school to watch what happened between the other two men out there. Snape had indeed tried to catch up with him, but wasn't quick enough. Malfoy had recovered and was chasing the teacher through the darkness. Panic welled up in him when he saw the tall blond stop and point his wand. A flash of light filled the air, then Professor Snape was down. Malfoy had stunned him. "No," Potter whispered, stepping from between the columns. He pointed his wand and yelled, "_Stupefy!_" but he missed the mark at this distance and cursed.

Malfoy looked from where he had knelt beside the Potions Master. Two more Death Eaters were exiting the woods, motioned on by Lucius. He pointed his wand, and Harry leapt for cover. He was never going to get out there with three of them. Harry's heart pounded in his chest. He could do nothing for Snape. Nothing at all.

They were getting close now, coming after him. Harry rushed to the door, jerked it open and closed himself within the safety of Hogwarts. He sprinted in the shadows, fearing they would try to enter the castle and retrieve him before he could call for help. But he couldn't make it. Out in the main entrance hall, Harry collapsed to his knees before the stairs, gazing up through blurry eyes and fogged glasses. He was freezing, chilled right to the bone. His lungs rattled with every intake of air. If they chose that moment to burst in on him, he did not know if he would have the strength to fight them off. Fearing this, he crawled into the shadows on the other side of the stairs, near a broom cupboard he could probably break open if it came to it. He curled into the corner and listened hard, trying to steady his breathing.

No one came for quite some time. Harry closed his eyes, feeling tired, dizzy and tingly all over. He should have known better. He shouldn't have followed Snape into the rain after being weak all day, but he had been driven by his need to know why Snape and his mother had been together. Water dripped down his face like tears as he grunted bitterly, opening his eyes to glare at the moonlight bathing the floor ahead of him. The man wouldn't even be honest about having done anything. Was he too ashamed of Harry to admit it? Too ashamed of himself?

Malfoy seemed certain enough. Harry had not missed the strange look of recognition in those cold, blue eyes. None of it made any sense to him. None of it. Yet the truth was inescapable. Illusions were shattered now, completely beyond repair. It was subtle, but more often than not, Harry saw less and less of the familiar assumption reflecting back in the mirror as he grew. After learning what James had done so long ago, after what Sirius had said about him not being as reckless or fun... He was starting to see less and less of James Potter within.

Harry closed his eyes again, resolving to rest only a moment more. Just as he was about to doze off a sudden pain brought his eyes wide open and his hand to his forehead. His scar was burning. Voldemort was very angry. Snape could be in trouble. He had to do something fast.

His legs wobbled when he stood up, but he pressed forward in determination. The front entrance to the school opened just as he began to climb the stairs. Fearing the worst, Harry pulled out his wand and twirled around, only to fall forward into someone's arms. His own weakness had taken hold. He would be dead, unless...

"Harry?" came the calm, grave voice of the Headmaster. "What's happened, Harry?"

"Snape," Harry gasped out, trying to stand on his own. Speaking made his throat feel raw, and he began to cough. "Snape's in trouble. Death Eaters...took him."

Dumbledore's bright eyes flashed. He still had a hold on Harry, keeping him steady, but his expression became distracted and calculating. "Are they in the school?" he asked low, as if he had already been prepared to add more gravity to a dark night. Harry wondered where he had been.

He shook his head, fighting swirling thoughts that threatened to overtake his senses. "We were in the yard when they came out of the Forbidden Forest." He coughed again. "I stunned Malfoy, then ran away, thinking Snape would follow. He did, sir, but Malfoy stunned him. Two other Death Eaters ran after me. I...I wanted to go help, sir. But I knew I couldn't take all three on myself."

"No, no," Dumbledore whispered, silently urging him up the stairs. "A very wise choice. We could not have afforded to lose you too, Harry." He looked down at the trembling boy on his arm. "You must tell me everything. And be strong when I speak back."

"Strong?" Harry repeated softly, then turned to look around at the emptiness behind them. A chilling thought thrilled through him. "Professor, where is Remus?"

The Headmaster sighed as if the weight of the world were on his shoulders. "That, Harry, is what I must need your promise of strength to tell."

As they climbed the stairs, Harry felt numb to all but a sudden icy feeling in the pit of his stomach.

xxx

**Author: **Ruse angelruse**AT**gmail**DOT**com

**Disclaimer**: Harry and company belong to the wonderful J., whom I thank personally for the deliciousness that is Snape.

**A/N**: A little tweaked since the first time I wrote it.


	16. Sins of the Past

**Hidden Things  
**Sins of the Past

xxx

_July 1976..._

_The street lamp outside was flickering. Light danced along the shabby, graying paper that spilled down the walls. Following a short hallway to the slightly opened door, through that door and permeating the room was the strong odor of cigarette smoke. There was no soft breeze stirring the silver curtains at the window. The bedroom lamp was doused for the night, as if the single occupant of the room believed it would keep him hidden from the demons outside. He sat against the wall, upon the hard, wooden floor. Strands of his long, black hair hung in his face and his black eyes were fixed upon a tear in the wallpaper that was illuminated by the flashing street lamp and scant moonlight. It always caught his eyes and always made him sneer at the bitter state of his life._

_A door downstairs slammed, causing a young Severus Snape to jump. Cursing, he drew a freshly wounded hand into the light cast by the opening in the drapes. His sudden movement had caused him to draw the knife he had been holding across his pale skin. A tiny river of blood was now drizzling down his palm. It flowed down into the sleeve of his black robe; he could feel it slipping over his wrist even as it pulsed. Severus did not cast any healing spells (could not, by wizarding law), nor look to brew any healing salves immediately. Instead, he gazed at his blood, transfixed by what he had done to himself. He dipped his fingers into the stream, then drew them back to look at the redness of it._

_Footsteps erupted into the silence. Two pair, moving quickly, converging on his bedroom. Severus looked up at the door just in time to see the form of his mother enter. She turned the light on with a flick of her wand, and he squinted his eyes at the sudden illumination. Her eyes fell on his hand all too quickly, before he could hide it. "Oh, Severus," she breathed, shaking her head. Her eyes were wide, the lines of her face set in worry. "Did he do this?"_

_He thrust his knife into a small sheath he had discarded earlier, then stuffed it within his robe. He looked on her with hard eyes, angry that she would take his life so seriously. It wasn't as if he had asked to be brought into this hellish little family. "No, Mother. This time it was your damn noise downstairs." His eyes flickered over a dark form that presented itself at her back. "Or was it your noise?"_

_"Hurt yourself, Severus? Did my abrupt entry frighten you, dear son?" his father hissed, brushing his mother aside. Tobias Snape was a Muggle, but a formidable man in his own right. At least to a young wizard not allowed to use magic to protect himself, lest the Ministry of Magic suspend him from his only respite from this dirty place. Why his mother lived with him, Severus could not say exactly. Perhaps long ago Tobias had been a different man. He couldn't imagine it. By the time he was old enough to understand the man properly, the elder Snape was not much more to him than thing of loathing, working in the employ of Muggle kings of shady dealings. Drugs? Death? Nothing new to Tobias Snape._

_Dear son. It was a sneer. A name with which Tobias Snape verbally lashed his child, because both of them knew what it meant. Or what it did not mean. Eileen sighed softly, crossing her arms before her chest, saying in a pleading voice, "Tobias, please."_

_But his father had something else on his mind other than mere pleasantries. His eyes were a light with a fire that made Severus feel powerful, for he knew his father, for all his loathing of the child he did not want, needed him now for the first time. "Where is it, son?" he asked softly, stepping closer._

_"Don't make him help you," Severus heard his mother whisper, though she did not sound very hopeful that her pleas would be answered. She put her hand on her husband's shoulder imploringly, only to be shoved away from him with a snarl. Eileen curled her hands, for once unwilling to let her concerns go. "Tobias, I forbid it! Severus, whatever you've agreed to, don't do it."_

_The elder Snape turned on his wife, taking her by the arm and hauling her towards the door. "Leave us be!" he barked, hustling her out of the bedroom. She tried to fight him off, but he was too strong and she too weak in spirit to do what should be done, as she had always been. Severus would have killed his father then and there if he thought he could get away with it, such was his hatred. But he knew he was just as powerless as she, in the end. He watched through hooded eyes as his father shut the bedroom door, locking it. When he turned around, he had a very serious look in his eyes. A look Severus recognized. His father could be very dangerous in such a state of mind. "You made what I asked?"_

_"I made it," Severus replied in a voice barely above a whisper. He swallowed, feeling nervous despite himself. Try as he may, he could not master himself as he knew he should. He was weak and they both knew it. Trying to salvage something of his pride, he lifted his chin and growled, "But you've always told me spells and magic were worthless. Why should I give it to you, if you don't even believe?"_

_His father sat down on the bed, glaring down at him. He kicked his foot against his son's a bit roughly. "I still don't believe your foolish tricks will lead you anywhere useful. But I do believe in poison. And that you are good at, I'm sure of it. The talent that binds us together, you and I. But do you have the courage for this? Perhaps killing a worthless stranger is too scary for my poor little boy?"_

_"It's not that!" Severus snapped, meeting his father's gaze with ice for ice._

_Tobias let a grin fall across his mouth. "Perhaps it isn't. You want me to think you're worth anything, Severus? Prove yourself. Then we can be what you've always wanted us to be. A father and his son. You think you'll get better from your mother's side? Go on up to Azkaban and ask. Or do you want something better? I'll teach you everything I know, and we can..."_

_Severus cut him off quickly. "Murder worthless strangers together?" It wasn't a friendly question, but a hiss spat at the man before him. Instinctively, his eyes trailed to the end of a desk on the other side of the room. On up the wobbly right leg of the dark, scuffed up wood he could see the corner of a piece of parchment. It was this that drew his eyes as if he could draw strength from it somehow. The glance was merely momentary, but as he turned back he could see curiosity sparked in his father's eyes. "Maybe I don't want to be a part of this anymore."_

_Tobias got up off the bed and Severus sat up quickly, afraid of what would happen now. His tall father moved over to the desk with a glance, muttering, "Is this where you put it?" He stopped and reached for the parchment, holding it up to read it as his son looked on nervously. A bark of laughter coursed through the silence roughly as the elder Snape crumbled the paper in his hand, tossing it down. "So my Severus told a little girl at school that his daddy was a terrible man. I like how she begs you not to do it, not to help me. You have the little thing fooled good, don't you? She doesn't know what a viper she has coiled around her at night in that precious school of yours, does she? Where is the poison?" He began to rifle through one of the rickety drawers._

_Angered, Severus jumped up from his place on the floor and grabbed his father's arm, jerking him away from the desk. "I don't want to do this anymore! Do you hear me? Get the hell out of my room!"_

_The elder Snape shoved his son away with a laugh as he tripped and fell back against the bed. "So, it's the little bitch that has _you_ fooled. 'There's a better way, Severus'," he mocked the girl in the letter, then pulled open another drawer. Its contents scattered to the floor. Tobias had pulled the drawer out of its hole in the desk. A little bottle rolled along the wooden floor._

_The young Slytherin desperately tried to get to it before his father did, but Tobias kicked him away viciously and scooped it up into his hands. When he turned Severus was cradling his arm and glaring through his black hair at his criminal father. The elder Snape raised a challenging eyebrow at his son, but they both knew nothing would come of his rage. "This Lily sounds like a fine young lady," his father said after a time, his voice even and sharp as a sword. "She talks gently and with all the ideals of a girl that hasn't seen the likes of what's on Spinner's End. A girl like that could never love you. How could she?" He held up the vial of poison for Severus to look at. "This is who you are. All of this around you is all you'll ever be because you can never be any better. But you don't have to let the darkness master you, Severus. Not if you can master it. Then you'll be unstoppable, something more than even I am."_

_His father rolled the bottle up in his hand and turned, leaving the bedroom with echoing steps. He left his son standing there by the desk, eyes on the floor and heart beating wildly. After a long moment's contemplation, Severus knelt and began to pick up the stray things that had flown out of his drawer after his father's rabid searching. His fingers brushed against the ball of parchment that was now a ruined letter from the only person at Hogwarts he had ever told about his life here. He had been terrible to her once, calling her 'Mudblood' when she dared defend him against his enemies. And even still, she had forgiven him for that, willing to open her heart to listen to the dark fears of a young boy that had no one else to talk to._

_But for all of that kindness she gave him, Severus knew his father was right about one thing. Lily Evans would never love him. How could she? And even if she did, would could be possibly ever give her?_

It was true, what they said about one's life flashing before their eyes before death. Yet not the whole play made the stage, but the parts that whipped a tired soul the hardest as if to give him a taste of the pain to come. Now the slow, steady sound of a crackling fire was the only sound in the room he was trapped in. In the middle of the floor, held down on his knees by the hands of two Death Eaters on his shoulders, Severus waited for judgment and ruminated on the shreds of his past. Nearby to him lay a bloody mass of torn clothes and flesh that was Remus Lupin, kept alive for the joy of torture and as a token to use against Dumbledore and now Harry Potter as well. He looked like he was barely hanging onto life by a thread, but despite such a lamentable state, those blue eyes betrayed he was awake. Lupin shivered and watched Severus.

The politics of being a Death Eater were a deadly game. It had been planned for Severus to bring the boy to his master this very night, but in his failure Lucius had the perfect means to cut him down and take his place. He would use this knowledge of Potter the bonds of kinship as the reason it kept him from murdering his own progeny. The accusation had been reported to Voldemort and Snape had laughed, backhanded for his mockery. Yet the balance lay with the choices of the Dark Lord and no one else, which was why the other Death Eaters handled Snape tentatively, if firmly.

Wormtail entered the room, pale and nervous, as always. It would not be long now. He held the door open and the Dark Lord Voldemort entered with high shoulders and an expression of steel. He sat down in the chair before Severus, his unfeeling and analytical. He had come to the same conclusion over the beginning of term and had told his spy the same thing as his father. _This is who you are, my servant. Do you doubt? Do you think Dumbledore and his minions will ever look upon you with as much pride as I do, my poisoner?_ he had said after using the _Cruciatus_ as a means of learning the truth of Snape's intentions. It was pain unlike any other, but still Snape had stood firm after the torment, pledging his service as certainly as before.

Voldemort did not have any pride in his gaze now. His red eyes bored into Snape's own, searching and clawing for the truth. Surprisingly, he drew his hand to his forehead and rubbed, laughing softly, as if they were old friends. This was a dangerous tone, a deadly prelude to more torment to come. "Severus, Severus. You failed to bring me my gift."

"I tried," Severus insisted, winning a shove from a Death Eater at his side. He hit the floor, but forced himself up with dignity. He would not play this game as a sniveling worm like the ex-Marauder that watched from the shadows nearby.

"Let him speak," the Dark Lord warned, glaring at Snape as if he were the only person in the room. Voldemort knew well the nature of his servants, which was why he almost never took counsel from them. His gaze was like death. "You tried to bring him to me. Why have I yet to lay eyes on him? Be truthful."

It was his fault, no matter the intentions behind it, Severus knew. That was how the Dark Lord thought. To try to excuse it would be seen as a weakness, so Snape knew how he must answer. "Distraction, my lord. On the way to the Forbidden Forest the boy confessed to me a belief that I am his father. Incredulous, I argued, and Potter attacked me physically. It was not long after that Malfoy emerged from the forest, and the boy caught him unaware with a blasting curse and ran. I chased him, but was unable to catch up. Malfoy took it upon himself to stop me. Perhaps he thought I was trying to escape," he added mockingly. "Or perhaps he saw an opportunity."

"No...Severus," Lupin whispered then, unexpectedly. Bellatrix Lestrange cast the _Cruciatus _on him for speaking. An anguished cry echoed in the too warm room. Severus ignored him as best he could.

The Dark Lord gazed at the ceiling in thought. He was calculating, weighing the tones, the truths he saw within the eyes of his servants. Many times Snape's loyalty had been in question—from both sides of the board he played. There was but one weakness Voldemort possessed. Like Dumbledore, he believed he could unfailingly command the loyalty of those around him. But his was an assumption of pride, whereas Dumbledore believed people could truly change. Both traits could be deadly if one relied too strongly upon them. "I find the story interesting. You, the father of the boy upon whom your master has decreed death. It would be difficult to destroy your own blood, would it not?"

"The point is irrelevant as I am not the boy's father," Snape replied solidly. That truth he had on his side, no matter what they boy thought he had seen.

Lucius bowed his head to Voldemort. "My Lord, I heard the boy with my own ears, as did MacNair and Goyle. Like Severus, I would dismiss it if I were not privy to certain…facts."

At this Snape could not hold his tongue against Malfoy any longer. "What _facts_ could you possibly have? Next you'll be telling me she got me drunk and had her way with me. Sophistocated, Malfoy _really!_"

A silken whisper from their lord was all it took to stop the argument. "Quiet." His eyes fixed on Malfoy's. Snape recognized he was using Legilimency on him. Against as unskilled Occlumens as Malfoy he could only find the truth there. Potter looked no different than he ever had. "Interesting," the Dark Lord breathed, then looked into Snape's own eyes. "Oh, I see no certainty in the mind of Lucius, it is true. But I see your past in the eyes of my cunning servant who so desires my good graces once more. And there is your asking me to spare her that fateful night…" He trailed off, danger glinting in his eyes.

"This is absurd!" Snape muttered, finding the depth of the lies into which he was drowning ludicrous. To die for a betrayal he did not even own! "I was her friend since our first year at Hogwarts, but I never took Lily Potter as my own. Never!"

Voldemort narrowed his brow thoughtfully, smiling a cruel, understanding smile. "He does not remember, Lucius, for whatever reason I see the information missing in his thoughts. Perhaps if you were to illuminate him?"

Whatever was said next could save or damn him, so Snape kept quiet and listened though Malfoy's once friendly eyes were now steel. "Nearly seventeen years ago I came to you one cold November evening. Do you recall?"

He sent his thoughts back into the past, searching for anything significant and truthful. "Yes," he concluded, lost in the events of that day. It was a blur after so long had passed. "I remember you acting strangely, but thought little of it. You asked me…you asked if I had any misgivings, if I had the strength for a life in the service of the Dark Lord. And you know my reply."

"Such an actor you are, my old friend," Lucius retorted, pacing behind him. "Yes, I know your reply. And it was for the sake of my belief in your honesty I said nothing to the Dark Lord of what I knew. That you had a friendship with that Mudblood, that she thought she could stop you from joining our ranks. It seems Regulus Black was privy to knowledge of those in his brother's circle."

"Black was a fool and a traitor," Snape retorted hotly, feeling his skin grow warm at the thought of it being spoken of like that in secret. Sirius had been no saint, but surely he would have known the danger he would put his friend in by telling such a secret to his brother. He wouldn't have put it past the younger Black brother to have shared that knowledge, however, if he were aware, no matter whether he wore a face of friendship with Snape. Regulus was the true Slytherin, always playing both sides of the fence.

"Be that as it may," Malfoy continued harshly, "he told me and I saved this information for my own use. I watched her, waiting to learn whether or not you had truly betrayed us because at the time, Severus, I had been hard pressed to believe you had. Even then I wanted to protect you," he said, as if his kindness were something to be praised. "She had married Potter not long after, and you gave me no reason to believe against you, so I assumed Black was setting you up. Then Harry Potter was born. And then you asked our Lord to spare her life the night he went to kill his enemy. Tonight the treachery has been confirmed."

"Convenient for you, isn't it?" Snape said with a cold smile. "Brings you back into the Dark Lord's graces." Malfoy said nothing, and they both knew it wouldn't matter the reasoning behind Malfoy's sudden interest in confessing the past. It was expected for the servants of Voldemort to file certain items of note away for future use against colleagues. He himself had several items which he had used to blackmail his fellow Death Eaters for one gain or another, so in that Lucius had plausibility for hiding the truth for so long. What would matter now was whether or not there was any proof. This was where Snape had him. The truth was he had never slept with her, no matter the circumstances surrounding the matter. It was unbelievable. Simply unthinkable. "This cannot be true," he whispered, trying to rationalize it all in his head. He instinctively looked to Lupin, whose eyes were luminous with pain…and something else that frightened Severus. Belief in what he had heard.

Their lord, who had remained silent through the tale, pointed his wand at Lucius Malfoy and said, "_Crucio!_" Malfoy fell to the floor, writhing as agony racked his body. When it was done, the servant got to his knees like Severus, and looked at his lord fearfully. Voldemort's eyes burned with death. He held up his hand when Lucius tried to speak. "Your silence is not as admirable as you would have it seem. When the boy was born you could have spoken your suspicions, but you knew my searching eyes had fallen on Potter and so fearing my rage, kept silent. Had I known I would not have tried to spare her life. Your days may be fewer than you think, Lucius."

Bowing so his long, platinum hair nearly touched the floor, Malfoy uttered softly, "Please, my lord, I..."

"Quiet," Voldemort whispered, an order more deadly than a shout. Instantly Malfoy silenced his pleas, looking pale. Voldemort motioned towards the stranger in their midst, who barely clung to consciousness, his blood coloring the floor scarlet. "Take the werewolf to the dungeon and make him comfortable. He remains useful, for now. Severus?" The name was said in that same sickly alluring tone Snape could recall his father using when he wanted something only his son could provide.

"Yes, my lord?" he asked, shaken, fearing death was at hand. He had lied to Voldemort about a great many things, but this was not one of them. Yet even the suspicion may be enough to condemn him.

The Dark Lord leaned forward, danger and power glinting through those blood-colored eyes. "Whatever the truth may be, I have one question and your answer may save your life. Would you give your son to me if I asked it of you?" Snape understood then. Whatever the truth may be, whether there be ties of kinship or none, the situation could be used as a means to an end. It bought Snape time, just a little more time to figure out how best to use this.

The word tumbled from his lips before he could even think of replying otherwise. "Yes."

Voldemort sat back, eyes hard, sifting mental claws though Snape's thoughts, seeking for any hint of deception. Whatever he saw in the trapped gaze of his servant he did not say, but his tone hardened as he said, "Then you had better hope I still find use for you by the time our conversation ends. Come to my feet and let us speak of the past and of the future."

Bowing his head, knowing he was a dead man one way or another, Severus moved to kneel before Voldemort to answer for what he knew of the past. He held little hope for any future. He and Lucius both may die for this night's revelations.

xxx

**Author: **Ruse angelruseATgmailDOTcom

**Disclaimer**: Harry and company belong to the wonderful JK Rowling, whom I thank personally for the deliciousness that is Snape.


	17. Fight and Flight

**Hidden Things  
**Fight and Flight

NOTE: Since writing this I've changed a few minor points. Most important the scene between Lily and Snape in Chapter 14, and the interactions between Snape, Malfoy and Voldemort in Chapter 16. Nothing huge, just some tweakage to make it better and fit more into what I now have in mind for a finish.

xxx

The older man was sweating, Harry could see. The lights in the Headmaster's office were subdued, which mirrored the undercurrent of tension he felt inside. Even Dumbledore, the rock of calm and wisdom, seemed rattled more than Harry had ever seen. He had eased himself into the chair behind his desk, for once looking his age. Something serious was going on and Harry almost dreaded to hear it. It struck him not for the first time how different he really was from other students. Normal students were sleeping in their beds, pleasantly oblivious to the terrors that stalked the night. They could rest knowing whatever was happening it would be taken care of. Harry could not be oblivious. He had to know the burdens of those much older than he, had to worry about it with them. Normally he wouldn't have it any other way, but not tonight. Not if he had to hear that he had lost another friend and father-figure.

"You are aware that Professor Lupin has been occasionally doing missions for the Order, yes?" Dumbledore asked, his eyes sparkling. He knew just as well that Harry shared in adult worries. He looked almost mournful of the fact, an expression that made Harry tense in terrible expectation as the Headmaster continued. "Tonight he was meant to meet with someone in order to obtain a certain item for me. There was a certain amount of danger involved, of course. He and I both were well aware of the risks. You must understand…"

"Wait." Harry took a deep breath after interrupting. He had to know. Now. "Before you continue with the details just tell me if he's still alive."

The Headmaster tilted his head once. "As you wish it. The answer to that question is, simply, I do not know. He has been captured by Death Eaters and his life now depends on Voldemort's whim. It may be there is still time, that Voldemort could perceive some use in him that could well preserve his life. If that is so then we may have a chance of saving him. But there is something more important that must be done." Dumbledore swallowed as if he were having trouble breathing. "He was to meet a vampire who had a wish, a wish that the Order of the Phoenix could fulfill. In exchange he would give Lupin what I required and the promise of trying to sway the vampires to our side."

Harry leaned forward, creating the image in his mind's eye. Any number of scenarios could come of meeting with vampires, he imagined, and not many of them could be found on the bright side of things. "What was that item?"

"A memory." The answer was simple and strange. A memory? What could one hide away in the depths of their past that could be worth the risk of a man's life? Before he could ask the Headmaster continued. "I was out as well this night. I had an errand and then I was tail Professor Lupin in order to aid in his safety." Pain shone again, his eyes fluttered shut for a moment. He rubbed at one arm beneath the sleeves of his robes. "I was delayed and the consequences of have placed both Lupin and the memory in danger. I can only hope…"

The greatest wizard in the world sat before Harry frightened and regretful, and that was more worrisome than anything else he had lived through. Somehow Dumbledore had seemed like a safety net that would always come in for the rescue, but this time he looked helpless. What could anyone do that Albus Dumbledore could not? "What do we do?" Harry asked, wanting desperately to take some action to fix this and save his friend. Lupin had information. He was valuable to Voldemort. If he could just hold on long enough, all didn't have to be lost. "What do I need to do to save him?"

Dumbledore's eyes flashed a moment, not in surprise, but in concern. "You cannot save him, Harry." Those words were unthinkable, but he could see Dumbledore meant them. "You cannot go marching into the lion's den, no matter how badly you might wish it. I must ask something else of you. Something dangerous, but something I cannot do alone. We must retrieve that memory. We can only hope he left it before he was taken, for if Voldemort gets his hands on it our task to be rid of him becomes far more difficult. Professor Lupin would agree that this takes precedence."

"But sir, what if Remus has it?" Harry burst, caught between the gravity he saw in those blue eyes and his own need.

The Headmaster rubbed his arm again. "Then all is lost." He stood somewhat unsteadily. "There is so much to tell you, Harry. And so little time. If only I had Severus…"

Harry shook his head, bewildered by the elder's tension. "Professor? There's something else you're not telling me, isn't there?"

"We must hurry. Go and get your invisibility cloak, Harry. Meet me in the Entrance Hall."

Recognizing that he would get no more from the other right now, Harry complied with a certain amount of agitation. Everything in him screamed that they had to save Lupin first, but an irritated little part of Harry knew that indeed the werewolf would agree regaining the memory was more important, if it could come to them losing this war without it. He flew back to the Gryffindor Common Room, barely feeling the ill effects of his meddling in the Blood Trance, his run-in with the Death Eaters and subsequent escape.

When he burst in behind a very annoyed Fat Lady Harry saw three sets of eyes watching and waiting for him. He hadn't counted on this and before he could formulate words said, "Uh, hi."

Ron, Hermione and Ginny exchanged puzzled glances. "Heard you leave, mate," Ron told him, motioning him to come sit by the fire. "Thought Snape wasn't about to train you in this weather. He might melt and all…"

Perhaps his best friend hadn't picked up on his anxiety, but Hermione was a keen observer. Her eyes went serious. "What is it? Something's happened?"

Tell them or not, he wondered. He could try to convince them to let him go with Dumbledore, and in the end they would probably be forced to do just that. Yet their position made him think sharply of he and Lupin. He would hate being in the dark knowing a friend was out there in danger's path. And he could use their help, if there was anything they could do. They couldn't follow him into danger, not if Dumbledore didn't allow it, but even having them alert and ready made him feel he had at least three more sets of hands at the task. They could alert McGonagall, perhaps have Madam Pomfrey ready. "Dumbedore's asked me to help him get something. Remus has been captured by Death Eaters."

At the news Hermione gasped and Ron paled. It was Ginny who seemed to know instinctively what he needed, and said, "What do you want us to do?"

Harry ran his hand through his hair, considering the options, keenly aware of the seconds ticking by. "He's not going to let me drag you into danger with us."

"We could follow you."

He shook his head as the other two nodded at her suggestion. "We're almost sure to apparate. I dunno how you'd find us."

"Abner," Ron said cryptically. The other four stared for a moment and he shrugged. "Diricawls can track over long distances. Goes along with that disappearing act they do."

The seriousness of the situation for the barest of moments forgotten, Ginny snorted, "How in the world would _you_ know that?"

Her brother knit his brow. "Hey, I'm not completely stupid. Blimey." At her raised eyebrow he confessed, "Neville told me about that mad Great-Granddad of his. You believe he actually used to use them things on big game hunts? Imagine sneaking through the brush with a great dirty bird tripping all over the place. Maybe we could get it to find Harry. Let it have a sniff of your robes?"

It was something, anyway. Harry gave a relenting nod. "Uh, right. You know where to find them. I've got to go. I should have been on my way already. Need my cloak." Without a word he disappeared up the stairs and into the dorm, throwing open his trunk to get his cloak and the tank he had been wearing to bed earlier. His three friends were already on their feet when he raced back out. He threw Ron his tank. "For Abner." He gave them all a parting look, nodding his head in thanks that they would be ready to aid him. It made him think painfully of Lupin.

The last thing he heard as he rushed through the Fat Lady's portrait was Ron asking Hermione whether or not she thought they could side-apparate with Abner, to which Ginny asked, "Are you _serious?_" Harry smirked and flew towards the stairs.

How many times had he made these trips, spiriting himself away through the darkness of the castle. It was quiet save for the occasional hiss of a painting, angry that it had been awakened so rudely. Not a year had gone by normally; in fact he couldn't imagine what it would be like it if did. To be normal, what would that be like? He thought again of the students' sweet ignorance of what was going on, envied it even. Yet seeing his friends agree so readily to help him had brought him to the only conclusion he could make. No, he wouldn't want anything to be different. He would want to run out and face danger, not for the thrill or for the glory, but because he loved them. He would get the memory, but he would _not_ give up on saving Remus. There was hope, there had to be.

At the entrance Dumbledore stood leaning against the doors, looking more haggard than he had even in the fifteen or so minutes that had passed between their parting. When he saw Harry a fleeting look passed his blue eyes—was that pride? Harry swallowed and took his place at the Headmaster's side. "We will be apparating, Harry, and when we reach the place there is much more I need to tell you. So little time…"

"Are you alright, sir?" he asked, stepping out into the rain with the older man.

Dumbledore spared him a glance, then nodded. "Well enough for this, I'm certain."

What that meant Harry did not know, and that worried him, but before he could ask Dumbledore had his arm and together they disappeared.

xxx

Black and white, dim in the flickering light of candles. The floor upon which he lay was cold and gritty with the dust of ages, the faded blue wallpaper almost black as it wept an opulent peacock design mingled with shades of green and deep wine. Or maybe…yes, of course. Blood spatters marring the old world quality of the setting, his own blood at that. Remus felt his eyes flutter, tried desperately to keep them open. He found studying the colors helped him keep focus. Not that oblivion wasn't attractive, but he had this uncomfortable feeling that if he succumbed he would not return. If he could make it to the next full moon perhaps he would have a chance…

"_Crucio._"

The voice was low, spoken by a voice he had trusted to do the right thing. Black robes swirled before his vision as he let out an agonized groan, fingers curled, digging at the marble chess-board until they bled at the nails. When it ended Remus wondered whether or not he had the ability to make it until the next moon of any sort. Footsteps trailed away and pale hair over black cloak disappeared up stone stairs. Snape circled him fully, coming to a stop before him. He knelt down, dropping to one knee before the bleeding werewolf. His fingers trailed the red pool on the floor, black eyes unreadable as he surveyed the damage. Malfoy liked blood. Severus preferred magic. Either way it would do no good. Their questions would go unanswered so long as Remus could hold them locked away.

He had questions of his own. Steeling himself with a deep breath, the werewolf said quietly, "Is it true?"

Severus did not answer right away. Remus watched those pale fingers disappear within the black drape of clothing and remove a small vial the color of sickly milk. Uncorked, it produced a sharp, bitter-sweet scent. The Death Eater Phoenix forced the werewolf into a sitting position, held him by his collar forward and forced the vial to his lips. Remus choked on the taste, his throat burning as the liquid travelled down. Immediately his chest felt warm, as if he had taken a straight shot of Firewhiskey. Snape gave no reaction, neither pleasure nor compassion, but watched until Remus had his breath. "That will return some of your strength," he said softly, replacing the vial into his robes. He watched again, seeming deceptively kind in allowing the werewolf to have a moment of rest.

"You didn't answer me," Lupin observed, trying to figure out what game Severus was playing. Alone, Severus seemed to relax, but Remus could not forget the torture he had just been through at his hands in the presence of others. Maybe he had no choice, but it still stung. What he wondered was what would happen now. He had his own game to play—the wait and see game. Wait for an opportunity, then take one that presented itself. He needed to keep Severus talking. "Are you really Harry's father?"

The Potions Master shook his head, not meeting his eyes. "Don't be absurd. The boy has the idea, but there's no way."

"None at all?" Remus watched him closely, looking for any sign of deception, scenting for fear or anger.

There was only numbness when he replied, "None at all." A secret wish that there were seemed to linger in that quiet voice. Lupin sighed, considering fate. Snape looked up, resolved to another line of conversation. "What was your mission tonight about?"

"You know I won't tell you."

"Even if I could help? The Dark Lord still imagines I am in his service. I would use the knowledge against him. You know this."

Lupin shivered in the cold as he leaned back against the wall. He could feel some of his strength return as promised, but still felt too tired to hold himself up. Severus was fingering his wand thoughtfully. "I went to retrieve something from the vampire you brewed that potion for. I have no doubt Dumbledore is already on his way to the forest where I was and will retrieve it himself."

"No doubt," Snape repeated, nodding to himself. He looked into the werewolf's eyes, causing Remus to draw his gaze away. "Nevertheless, I must know what it was you were after and where you put it when the others came for you. There are, as I see it, two ways we can go about this. In one scenario you tell me what I need to know and I give you a quick, painless death, because believe me there is no escaping the Dark Lord for either of us. In the other…" he lifted his wand, training it on Lupin, "I cause you unbelievable amounts of pain and gain the information anyway."

Shaking his head, Lupin tried to back away, stopping when Snape aimed at his face. "Severus, whatever they've done to you…"

"_Crucio!_"

He fell to the floor, his weary body going tense as he yelled out in pain. He had no time to be stunned, no time to wonder just how long Snape had been playing them all. There was only the pain of the Cruciatus and the darkness of oblivion finally overtaking his senses...

And then he was awake again, Severus whispering the incantation to hold his consciousness captive and fully aware. He cast the torturing again before Lupin could barely register that sweet sleep would not hide him from the pain, and as he writhed he banged his head on the wall, causing white stars to steal momentarily across his vision. When it ended he found himself limp on the floor in a newly wet pool of his own blood. Breathing raggedly, he closed his eyes, willing himself to remain calm despite the well of terror threatening to spill over him. "Do what you need to do, Severus," he whispered, swallowing hard. "I forgive you." Why he said it, he didn't know, because he was angry at having been used this way, angry that Dumbledore had believed in Snape's redemption only to be repaid this way. But he wouldn't die bitter because of it. In him there was also sorrow for whatever had brought them to this day.

"_Forgive me?"_ Snape hissed, for the first time since he had come down here sounding as if he could, in fact, feel something. "Fool." The derisive remark came with another round of the Cruciatus, then angry hands pulling at his shirt to force him once again into a sitting position. "I ought to kill you for saying such a stupid thing," Snape growled, then snaked his fingers into Lupin's sweat-soaked brown hair. He pulled him close and without thinking Remus opened his eyes. He found himself caught, lost in the depths of Snape's black gaze as pressed his will into the werewolf's mind.

It was no secret that Severus could delve into the mind, could ferret out snippets of memory and intention. He had used this tactic on Lupin before, had even gained information now and again because Remus had not been paying attention to where those eyes were directed. This…this was wholly different. He could feel Snape in his thoughts, he could sense the darkness that shrouded this man, the deathly intent. He could smell potions and hear them simmering, felt Snape's fingers at his temples melt into his skin, clawing through his brain without mercy. Simply reading the mind was difficult, the will of the person being read played a role in the ease. Lupin held steadfastly onto thoughts other than those which Snape hunted. He recalled the Shrieking Shack, James and Sirius with him as he transformed into the beast.

Lupin poured his thoughts into that beast, willing himself to go down that path in his mind, to simplify the mind until it was little more than instinct. Severus tore through that barrier with an effort that left the werewolf gasping for breath, sweat pouring down his forehead. Remus lost physical vision, the battle of wills taking every sense and turning it out to Snape's invasive inspection. Another memory clawed through, a vision of Nymphadora smiling. She fell dead to the ground in his mind and Lupin let out a low moan, knowing it wasn't real and yet being forced by Snape to feel was.

Severus sought out other visions, other places of refuge in Lupin's mind and tore them to pieces through sheer will. And then he found it. Hidden away in the black recesses with the hopelessness that was growing, there was a light and as a moth Snape went for it. They both saw the woods, the vampire handing over a bottle glowing with the essence of memory. They lived through the great chase, the Death Eaters on their tail, desperation slowly sinking in as they realized there were too many of them. Dodging as bolt of green, they darted down a hill that was so steep they found themselves tumbling to the bottom.

And that was where Snape gained the information he had been seeking. As lightening he pulled himself out of Lupin's mind, leaving the werewolf moaning in head-crushing pain that made him wish the other man had just killed him. At the end Remus had gained a taste of the dark intentions of his former colleague. His heart pounding almost out of his chest, he pleaded, "No. Don't do this. Don't give in to Voldemort." Lupin had no idea of the contents of the memory, but knew by Dumbledore's actions that it was a vital weapon against the Dark Lord.

The other laughed a bitter, mocking laugh. "What makes you think I've ever had any intention of doing otherwise?" Snape was breathing hard, apparently affected by the contest between them. He watched Remus flounder, looking for anything he could say or do to stop this madness. "I will find that memory before Dumbledore. I will see whatever it is you are trying to hide. And then I'll do what needs to be done."

"Damn it, Severus," Remus hissed, darting a hand for the black robes as if he could stop him. "He could be your son. Even you wonder. You won't give him to Voldemort."

A humorless smile played at the Death Eater's lips. "Won't I? I've taken the Unbreakable Vow tonight. I have one year to deliver Harry to the Dark Lord and so help me, Lupin, I will do it, whether he is dead or alive."

Lupin felt his stomach drop at the admission, at the promise in those words and at the truth of the intent he had sensed before Snape had broken the connection. He meant to do it. He would hunt, he would catch Harry unaware and would have no mercy, take no prisoners if it came to it. "And if he is your son?" Lupin whispered, trying to strike some sort of chord in the man. Surely he had some inkling of feeling in that battered heart of his. It wasn't completely dead. Something could stop him.

Snape pushed himself up to his feet, brushing back his own sweaty hair and straightening his robes. "If it were possible that brat was of my gene pool I would happily try again with another woman. Harry _Potter_ is hardly the end all be all of our kind. You think ties of blood overcome years of hate? You know nothing." His glare took in the weakened werewolf a moment before he swept down like a bat, pulling Lupin up to his feet. "You'd better find some strength. You and I are going for a little walk. Faltering means pain, success means a merciful death. You might want to choose differently this time around."

Hands pressed into his shoulders, forcing Lupin up stairs he could barely climb. Several times he thought for sure he would fall if not for Snape's iron hold on him. The Death Eaters in the ground floor of the manor took their fellow at his word when he said he was taking the dog for a walk and would return with the item in question. Out the front door into the entrance courtyard rain was pouring, washing away the werewolf's blood and blinding him to the distance before him. He hit the cobblestone path beneath his feet, unable to keep himself upright. When Severus pulled him up, aiming his wand and beginning the apparating process, Remus thought he saw a huge snake slithering towards them in the mud before they disappeared.

xxx

**Author: **Ruse angelruseATgmailDOTcom

**Disclaimer**: Harry and company belong to the wonderful JK Rowling, whom I thank personally for the deliciousness that is Snape.


	18. Memory Lane

**Hidden Things  
**Memory Lane

xxx

Mist shrouded the dark floor of mud and blades of grass that bent to the will of two pairs of footfalls, one faltering and the other sure, moving with purpose. A sliver of a moon shimmered down through the overhanging trees, just barely illuminating their path. The unpleasant rain was gone save for that which soaked both the Phoenix and the Death Eater through to the skin. It was a cold night, which kept Remus awake when he had every urge to fall asleep on the dirty ground. He held his arms close for warmth and stumbled through the night towards a particular place tucked away in the shadow of a great hill where trees were thick and weeping leaves. He was at a point where thought did not factor into his movements. To consider the pain and the bone weariness would be too much for the system to handle and he would surely fall. Instead, Remus put one foot before the other one without doubt and without complaint, just moving.

The black mass of robes behind him had remained silent thus far. Stealing a few glances back revealed nothing of what the other man was thinking, there was only that dead stare as if he felt nothing. Remus didn't buy it. Snape was a master of concealing his emotions. There was a tightly sealed door in there hiding the truth of why this betrayal had come. Voldemort had something on him, he had given up hope somewhere along the way. The werewolf knew the Potions teacher didn't serve out of fanaticism like that monster Bellatrix Lestrange. It was just a question of what lever to pull, what button to push. There was a key to unlocking that seal where the real Snape hid and even if his reasons held him to Voldemort until the end, maybe Remus could buy himself a moment or two to act, to somehow end this passage through the black of night until Dumbledore could arrive.

One misstep and Lupin was down on his knees with a curse under his breath. Unfortunately it wasn't a ploy, but the result of his failing strength and the truth of that weighed on him. Slippery leaves crumbled beneath his hands as he struggled to maintain some balance. He braced himself to be paid for his slip with the Cruciatus, but the torment did not come. He turned to Snape, meeting the vision of two black eyes over a wand trained on him. "Get up," he was warned in that soft, deathly calm voice.

Drawing air into his lungs, Remus rose to his feet and turned as Severus flicked his wand onward. To tell the truth he wasn't sure he could have handled another round of the spell. His captor surely must know that as well as he. It hurt knowing there was no kindness in the gesture, merely practicality. It was falling apart, all of it. Dumbledore had made a grave error and it may cost the war if Snape continued the charade, got close again, betrayed them all. In the unearthly silence the werewolf wondered whether or not he was going to die this night.

"What will you do when you lose his favor?" he asked, gazing straight ahead towards his doom. If he could only reason with him…

Severus did not scoff, nor did he punish the question asked of him. When his spoke his tone suggested to the werewolf he was not the only one resigned to his fate. "Then I will die like the rest. And someone will take my place."

This time Remus stopped of his own volition, turning with angry eyes. "Then why serve him, Severus? With us you could have so much, so _much_ to live for. Why die without a legacy when…"

"…When I may have a son that will hate me forever?" One corner of Snape's lips tilted ever so slightly up, but his eyes remained hard. He stepped close, unreadable and dangerously quiet. "It may have escaped your notice, but you and I have entirely different values. I never slept with Lily Potter, Lupin. There is no fairytale ending here. Now _move_."

"But you wanted to, didn't you?" Remus accused, winning that well known glare. It hit close to home. If he pressed just a little more, maybe…just maybe… "Don't deny it. I could scent her in your thoughts, somewhere dark, buried down deep but still there. Don't let your fear of Harry's reaction frighten you into something you'll regret for the rest of your life."

It was a right hook that sent Lupin reeling this time. He would have toppled to the ground had it not been for a tree meeting his back. Immediately he threw himself into the other man and they both fell, werewolf clawing Death Eater, trying to grab the wand out of his hand. He was too weak, Severus had the high ground as rolled them over, werewolf beneath him. Hold the lapels of his shabby jacket, Snape hissed, "Maybe I wanted her. Maybe I wanted to toy with her. Does it escape your attention that perhaps _she_ did not want _me_?"

"I don't know where the discrepancy between reality and your memory lies, Severus, but I do believe what Harry saw was the truth." He looked Snape in the eyes, letting the honesty of his belief in that statement bleed through. "He has your stubbornness. Once either of you is set upon believing something you both hold to it until Heaven moves mountains to show you the truth. He has your strength. How else could he have survived the things he has seen? He's even learned a bit of that dreaded sarcasm…"

"SILENCE!" His dark eyes blazed with fury, the tip of his wand pressing into Lupin's cheek with lethal intent. His hands curled along the cloth of the werewolf's jacket, half pulling as if he were tempted to wrench him up and slam him back to the earth. He had the look of a stricken viper. The rain started once more, washing the blood from the side of Lupin's lips. He blinked back the sprinkling, still trying to reach the other with his gaze, but Snape would have none of it. "There is no discrepancy. There is no truth to be sought. Potter…is _nothing_ like me and never will be. You hope for it because you hope I will not betray you. I have betrayed you and I will again, before the end. Believe that, and _get up_."

Severus pulled him to his feet and pressed his wand into the werewolf's back. The soft music of the tears of the earth falling in the brush called them forward to an end that would seal many fates. It echoed how Remus felt—old beyond his years. Was this the burden Dumbledore carried on his shoulders? Understanding of the darkness in the world? Yet he had still believed there was redemption for Severus Snape. It could very well kill him, and there was not a damn thing the werewolf could do to stop it.

Water washed hair into his eyes and Remus swept it back, rubbing rain away from his vision. From his mind Snape knew unerringly where to go, but needed Remus once he was there. Well, he had a little surprise coming. Once there Lupin would make his last stand, whether or not Dumbledore had found the place the werewolf had parted with the vial containing the memory. Five minutes passed, then ten, and then they stood at the bottom of a large knoll littered with footprints both human and otherwise.

Lupin braced himself as Severus said, "Call the wolves." In his thoughts they had lived it together, his tumbling to the bottom of this hill and picking up on the familiar scent of a wild animal dogging his steps. Natural wolves had an affinity for werewolf kind, thus there was no danger to Remus be he in werewolf or human form. They could smell it on him, respond to it with the instinct of a pack mate. Knowing it was only a matter of time before the Death Eaters caught up to him, for they were spread like locusts in the woods searching without mercy, tipped off doubtlessly by Snape himself. There at the bottom of the hill he had called out to his fellow wolf and, ripping the inner lining of his jacket, tied the memory flask around the neck of his animal companion, then sent it off into the darkness with the only speed that would carry the burden quickly enough to escape the Death Eaters—that of a wolf. Where it was now, Remus couldn't hazard a guess. He could smell wolves in the area and knew they were aware of both he and Snape. There could be no way to know for certain if the wolf carrying the flask was one of them, not in his unphased form.

"There are none in surrounding forest," he said, stalling because he knew Severus would not take him at his word.

The tip of Snape's wand dug into his shoulder blade. "Liar. Call them here and know if you tell them to attack, I will kill you without a thought."

Turning slowly, Remus let his full intention shimmer in his stare. "And if I refuse? You can crawl through my mind, but you cannot call for the wolves."

A moment of silent tension played between them, then Snape moved closer. "You don't realize the extent of what is going on here. Refuse and you die, I die for my failure, and the Dark Lord will retaliate against those you profess to hold dear. Give me the memory and you buy yourself time, you buy your friends and family time. Mutual interests, Lupin. We can both profit from this game. Your move."

"Then I choose not to move, Lupin replied with rock solid determination. "Whatever I gain I know you will gain more, else you would not make this offer. You're just going to have to find another way to preserve your life, Severus. My blood and betrayal won't buy it for you."

Eyes flashing dangerously, Snape lifted his wand, fully ready to utter a curse.

xxx

Time was running out. Harry could feel each second that passed as if it were a hand on his heart, squeezing in a rhythm contrary to that of the muscle beneath. They had appeared together in an abandoned park where playground equipment was either rusting or fallen and cast aside. He couldn't imagine a child playing there, couldn't imagine any sane adult condoning it. Across the way he could see shabby houses, some with lights and others dead by all appearances. The sound of breaking glass called out from that general direction and Harry found himself fervently wishing to go the opposite way, which was what Dumbledore intended.

They turned to the face of trees waiting for victims to enter and lose their path. It wasn't a much more hopeful prospect, but at least anything that lived there would probably scamper away at their footsteps. Hopefully. "Forbidding isn't it?" Dumbledore remarked, as if reading his thoughts. The old man stepped towards the forest without reservation. "Trees are trees, Harry, no matter how frightening they appear. They can still provide life if nourished by the sun."

Entering the darkness with the Headmaster, Harry attempted to force himself to calm down, think neutrally for the sake of Remus. He could not lose hope. "Is that what you tell the first years about the Forbidden Forest?" he asked, a quirk to his lips that he didn't feel reach his rattled nerves.

Dumbledore's smile was tense, but reassuring. "All forests have darkness in them. There's a remedy for that, however." He lifted his wand and said, "Lumos." Together they forsook the open field where the playground was and got lost in the brush. Harry found himself reminded sharply of Aragog and his somewhat extensive family. He resolved himself to the idea that if ever he became an Auror he would politely suggest his people make exchanges of this type in safer places like local pubs or maybe on the Ferris wheels of amusement parks where the joyous laughter of children were sure to keep the Death Eaters away. The idea of Lucius Malfoy stalking a teacup ride had a certain appeal to Harry.

It was there in the light of Lumos he finally got a look at Dumbledore's hand. The skin was black, dead looking. Alarmed, he opened his mouth to ask about it when Dumbledore said, "They were to meet near that playground as I have it. I can't imagine Remus got much further. Hold your wand at the ready, Harry. There may still be Death Eaters lingering in these woods."

Harry obeyed, conscious of the darkness around them. It was silent and it gave him the unreasoning expectation of a sudden interruption of that silence with danger. "Sir, what happened to your hand?" he asked, keeping his eyes alert.

Dumbledore didn't answer right away as if choosing his words carefully. Why hadn't he gone to Madam Pomfrey? "That, Harry, is tied to what I must tell you as we search. It is also tied in with the memory we are seeking. Tell me, have you ever run across the term Horcrux?"

"You're asking the wrong one," Harry laughed lightly. "Hermione's the one that knows all about, well, everything.

"Indeed, but she may not know this." The Headmaster paused, surveying the ground for any signs the earth had been disturbed. Several sweeps later he found footprints and motioned Harry to follow. "A Horcrux is an object of inestimably dark power. Few wizards throughout the ages have had the power and courage to use it because of the great cost. We have discussed before how Voldemort's greatest fear is death. His name, in fact, derives from the Latin 'volo,' 'de,' and 'mort', which mean fly or flee from death. He would pay any price to live forever, Harry, and that is what he has done. A Horcrux is an object into which someone has hidden a piece of their soul which prevents death even in the face of physical destruction."

The idea chilled Harry. "So you think Voldemort has made one of these, these Horcruxes?" What would it mean? The body could indeed die; he knew this better than most. But a piece of Voldemort floating around in an object forever? "The diary?"

He had not wanted to see Dumbledore nod at his suspicion, but nod he did. "The diary, yes, and others I fear."

"Others?"

The Headmaster wiped his sweating brow. It was cold, but damp after the rain and the trees overhead weren't helping matters. "There have been other prophesies, Harry, and it has taken me the better part of twenty years to, if you'll pardon the terrible pun, riddle them out. Even now I cannot be certain I understand all aspects fully. But if I read the prophecy right, I believe we are contending with not one, but seven Horcruxes. If seven were made, Harry, seven must be destroyed or Voldemort will not be stopped."

It was unthinkable. Seven? "You said there was a price to pay. What price is that, exactly?"

Dumbledore stopped, turning towards him. "To break your soul is to damage any hope of an afterlife. Heaven, Hell, neither would matter because the fragments of who you were will be dead. A death after death is the price you pay if you go too far. Two have been destroyed, Harry, one by your hand and the other," he lifted his blackened flesh in the light of his wand, "by my own. The memory, I believe, will point the way towards the third. So you see, if he gains it before we do, he will realize what we are doing and finding them will be impossible."

"What do they look like?" tumbled from Harry's mouth. Fear surged through him at the revelation. Seven items barring Voldemort from death, seven items giving him the means to kill, torture and rule. Were they all books? All things Voldemort had owned?

"Anything," Dumbledore breathed, blue eyes trailing him gravely. "A book, a ring, his snake. He…"

A stick broke in the darkness over Dumbledore's shoulder, then a form fell forward as if dead. Red matted brown hair and painted a frayed grey jacket. Harry felt his stomach drop at the sight of his friend on the forest floor. At his side a form in black entered the scene, wand aimed at the Headmaster. Snape's gaze flitted between them. "The time has come for the game to end," he said quietly, pacing to the side to get nearer to Harry.

"Remus?" Harry gasped, panic flooding his system. Had the Potions Master rescued Lupin?

A red bolt of magic whirled towards him and everyone started moving at once, save the fallen werewolf. Harry threw himself out of the way of the stunning curse, but Snape was already countering. He bolted after Harry as if they were the only two in the forest, throwing curse after curse as Harry dodged desperately. This was definitely different from training. He now fully knew what Snape was like when he meant it and it frightened him. He attempted a disarm as he threw himself behind the cover of a tree, but was nicked by a flash of red that didn't stun him, but sent him reeling to the forest floor. Rolling to his back he saw Snape preying on him and knew he couldn't move fast enough to get away.

Only one thing stopped him dead in his tracks. A voice, strong and yet still unyieldingly gentle. "Severus," Dumbledore called, wand raised, gaze solemn. He disappeared in a white jet of light and forsaking Harry, Snape followed in a wisp of dark. The two forms danced in the air, then disappeared into the woods. For a long moment Harry stayed where he was, thrown by Snape's actions. It was one thing to entertain the idea that Snape wasn't to be trusted, it was quite another to have it proven. And now of all times. Now that Harry knew the truth. He felt suddenly sick.

But no, he had to think of something else, anything else. So he pulled himself up and rushed to where Lupin lay almost face down. Harry rolled him gently then felt for a pulse. When he felt the telltale signs of life he could have melted with joy. Instead he settled for trying to pat his friend awake, shaking him and calling his name. Remus barely stirred. It looked like he had been tortured and rage started to simmer in Harry at the thought of Snape. Had he done this? He felt around Lupin's jacket for his wand and instead came across something else, something familiar. The Blood Trance. Apparently he still had it. And then it occurred to him, there was still another task at hand. "I know what you said, but it's all I can do," he whispered, removing the vial and uncorking it.

Harry downed the rest in one shot, muttered, "Ostendo," then waited for his vision of the woods to fade into something else. Familiar dizziness swept over him as the night scene was replaced by stars. He concentrated on one thing—the memory—and sought it ruthlessly despite the cloudiness threatening to steal his awareness. His eyes trailed a blurring of lines of light, twisting around trees and brush, faster and faster until he thought he would be sick. And then he saw what he needed. A way in the dark.

He didn't know how long it took him to come out of it, but it was slow. His lungs ached and when he coughed red flecks hit Lupin, adding to his own blood spatters. "Oh God," Harry groaned, wiping at his mouth. His shirt came back marred. He couldn't let it stop him, not if getting to that memory killed him. Dizzily making his way onto his feet and nearly falling, he said, "I'll come back for you," to the prone werewolf, then lit his wand and stumbled off into the night. It was like following pieces of his dream, only sane pieces instead of funhouse mimics of the forest. Somewhere there was a wolf with an object worth more than price of the land in which he hid.

A familiar turn, a gathering of trees, and there in a sizeable thicket lay a wolf with his tongue lolled out in a pant. Between two paws on the ground lay a glowing bottle that Harry knew was his goal. The wolf cocked it's head as Harry took a step near, made an inquisitive noise, then stood. "Uh, nice dog," Harry said nervously, keeping his movements calm and slow. The wolf started to growl, eyes shining as it stared at Harry. No, not at Harry. Behind him. Harry whipped around, wand at the ready, then felt it rip out of his hand as Snape disarmed him. Dumbledore was nowhere in sight. "What have you done?" Harry asked, conscious that the wolf was snarling dangerously at his back.

"You wouldn't believe anything I told you, so why ask?" Snape retorted, looking between boy and wolf. In a flash the wolf leapt at the dark form of the Death Eater, but was brushed aside by a stunning curse that sent the animal backwards with a yelp. Harry risked a glance towards it; saw the memory lying on the ground a few feet away. He inched his way closer and Snape tilted one eyebrow up, fingering his wand. "I'll make you a deal, Potter. Give me the memory and I'll let you go this one time."

Harry let out a humorless laugh. "Not on your life, _Dad_." He darted after it and held it as if to pour the memory out.

Snape's lips quirked to the side as he took a step closer. "You and I both know you can't do that. Not this time." He was referring to the prophecy that had been destroyed in the Department of Mysteries, and he was right. This was one weapon that couldn't be destroyed. Calculations flickered in the depths of his black gaze and they both waited, daring each other to make the first move. "If you think I won't hurt you because you're my son, then you should know something."

"Oh and what's that?" Harry snapped, scouting the ground for his wand.

A jet of light flew and Harry hit the ground hard, the wind knocked out of him. For a second his eyes rolled back, the memory tumbling from his weak fingers onto the floor, then he hacked up another round of blood. Snape was already on him, kneeling over, taking the memory. His eyes raked over the shaking Gryffindor as he said, "I am _**not**__ your father_."

He drew himself to full height and started to move when a rushing sound startled both of them. Harry turned his head just in time to see a flying form bounding through the brush with one goal in mind. The great bird bowled into Snape, knocking him down fully, then leaped on Harry with a deafening squawk. Harry heard Snape let out a curse, saw his wand come up, but three forms bolted into the woods after the diricawl. With a parting glare Snape darted away as three wands took aim. He had the memory in his hand. Harry could see the glow of it disappear in a puff of black.

Panicked at the arrival of Harry's friends and the sudden disappearance of a scent he did not recognize, Abner exploded in a feathery rainfall and was gone. Harry wasn't sure whether to praise the bird's timing or not, but was nevertheless grateful for once that Hagrid had a fascination for magical creatures. "What was Snape doing, aiming his wand at you like that?" Ron asked as the three of them knelt, his best friend finding his wand on the grass. "When that bird smacked him down I had a time of keeping myself straight until I saw that. We got here as soon as we could."

"Quiet, Ron," Hermione breathed, wiping at the blood on Harry's chin. She shared a look with Ginny, who was already ripping at the bottom of her shirt. They sat Harry up and he coughed in the cloth she offered. He didn't really want to alarm anybody, but he wasn't entirely certain his lungs were going to continue working just now.

He pointed off towards the darkness and managed, "Remus," before passing out in Ginny's arms.

xxx

**Author: **Ruse angelruseATgmailDOTcom

**Disclaimer**: Harry and company belong to the wonderful JK Rowling, whom I thank personally for the deliciousness that is Snape.

One epilogue to go and finished... Hmmm. No one likey? *hugs Sevvy to self* 3

xxx

…_**Random Harry Potter Moment…**_

"And what, Miss Granger, would you be reading instead of the pages I assigned?" Snape hissed, eyes glinting dangerously as he observed study hall. Hermione, he grudgingly had to admit, was one of his more intelligent students. That she would have her attention focused on something other than the assignment did, in fact, surprise him.

She didn't quake under his glare, but her cheeks did flush a shade pinker than usual as she replied, "Sense and Sensibility." Innocence slithered across her feathers as a mask to hide her lack of responsibility.

"Sense and Sensibility," Snape scoffed distastefully, his arms crossed and his eyes rolling. "Terrible book. And an even worse movie." Too late he realized his mistake and her brown eyes went wide as she looked at him like she had never seen him before in her life. Cracking his knuckles into a fist, he hissed, "You will pretend I never said that."

Granger nodded softly, trying desperately to hide her amusement and failing. "Of course."


	19. Calm Before The Storm

**Hidden Things  
**Epilogue - Quiet Before The Storm

**xxx**

There had been no trace of Dumbledore in those terrible woods after that night. A search party of dedicated, fully armed members of the Order of the Phoenix had been headed by Mad-Eye Moody and taken to where the weary but recovering Remus Lupin had directed. Nothing had been found. No unaccounted for footprints, no fallen wand or scrap of clothing. No body. That word, he had heard Mad-Eye use it and it had hit him like a blow that anyone could possibly use that word to describe Albus Dumbledore. No, he wouldn't even think that word. There had been increased incidents with Death Eaters in the past few days and true, Dumbledore had not shown himself to anyone in response, not even to plan the next step, but Harry had a few supporting facts to a little theory he had worked on overnight that went something like, 'Albus Dumbledore couldn't possibly be dead because it's impossible he could die, ever, for as long as Harry Potter needed him'. Well, he knew that's what the others would think, anyway.

But it didn't make sense. Someone like Snape, yeah he could believe the betrayal—he had always been waiting for it, but kill one of the greatest wizards of all time? Snape had not gloated when he had intruded upon Harry with the wolf, something he surely would have done had he pulled off such an impossible feat. There had been no pleasure in his eyes, no smug superiority that went with his deplorable triumphs, nothing. Harry could see it in his mind's eye, had gone over each detail of the encounter before and after Dumbledore had disappeared. What was more, if a Death Eater had been lucky enough to catch Dumbledore unaware long enough to kill him or had incapacitated and delivered him up for Voldemort, then there surely would have been some word from the Dark Lord. There would be darkness abound, a play to take over the Ministry of Magic, all those things he had wanted for fifty years and been denied because of the simple fact that Dumbledore was alive. The terror he could inspire in the magical community if such an event had occurred would weaken their society as a whole, make them ripe for Voldemort's rule.

If he had the card it was not being played, and that just didn't make sense to Harry. He had said as much to Remus one night after the visitors had gone, leaving the two patients to their thoughts. The werewolf had agree it seemed likely they would have heard something by now, but there had been that look in those blue eyes that Harry had not wanted to see, that look that wanted to warn the younger, less experienced boy not to get his hopes up. Harry had changed the subject before he could say it.

He stood alone at the window there in the hospital wing, still confined due to his use of the Blood Trance, which of course now everyone knew about. They all thought, of course, that he was trying to spy on Voldemort and that was just fine by him. Let them think that and have no inkling of the terrible truth. Madam Pomfrey had given him quite the earful about the draught, and then McGonagall had stepped in to repeat everything the healer had said. Surprisingly, Lupin was about the only one that hadn't chided him about it. They both knew the importance of that memory. Harry hadn't had a choice.

Some few beds back Lupin was asleep. Harry ventured a glance at his friend, frowning at the inflamed red line running from his hairline down the side of his face. He had been in pretty bad shape, or so Harry had been told. That night he had not been awake to learn anything, help or even worry about the missing Headmaster. Now a few days later both he and Lupin were regaining their strength, both expected to be allowed to leave the confines of Madam Pomfrey's hen's nest soon. When they could finally talk Remus had said very little about what had taken place in the Death Eater's headquarters. He said Lucius Malfoy was responsible for the greater part of his injuries. When asked about what Snape had done the werewolf had been decidedly hazy. He didn't come right out and say he knew about Snape's possible relationship to Harry, but Harry suspected he did and that was why he was sugar coating the events.

He did not act differently towards Harry, if he did know. There were no looks of loathing or eyes that studied the young Gryffindor's features as if measuring them against the Slytherin that was now absent from the castle. He wasn't entirely sure he ever wanted to broach the subject, either.

The door at the end of the room opened and a form slipped in on silent feet. Harry looked over his shoulder, then returned his view to the grounds of Hogwarts as if somehow his vigilance would reward him with Dumbledore's return. At his side Ginny joined his hopeful watching for only a moment before saying, "Ron and Hermione'll be up. You still look pale."

He still _felt_ pale, if one could feel such a thing. His lungs were still sore whenever he wore himself out with long voyages to faraway lands such as the loo. Not enough to stop him, of course. He would be out there searching if he thought they would let him get away with it, even if it did mean falling over in a dead faint once in a while. He shrugged back his lack of concern. "What else is new?" He traced a smudge of dried rain on the outside of the window with his finger. "Least I won't be slaving away for the Dursley's. Believe me, pride or no, I'll be milking that for all it's worth. I'd just assume not see them at all, actually."

Ginny turned her back, leaning it against the window so she could see his face. "Me and Ron'll knock some heads in, if you like. Take numbers, kick asses."

He laughed despite himself. "That Quidditch Pitch has gone straight from your head to your mouth, I see."

"It really helps the mindset, those words. Gets the blood to flowing." She crossed her arms in silence a moment and he was aware this was probably one of the first private conversations they had had this year. Or even since the Chamber of Secrets. A lot had changed since then. It had been terrifying, facing that basilisk, facing Ginny's possible death at the hands of Voldemort's memory. Yet it had been so simple then. He had seen what needed to be done and did it. Now he had to think, to plan. He wasn't sure he was up for it. Ginny bumped him in the side. "What are we gonna do?"

There was no need to ask what she meant. "I dunno. Without Dumbledore…"

"We still need to act," she finished, though that wasn't exactly what he had been aiming to say. "If there's one thing I've learned this year is some people's lives are about classes, dances, clubs and Quidditch. And some people's lives are going to have to be about preserving those lives. You scared me with that Blood Trance, and after yelling at Ron for an hour I realized I should have been there to stop you."

Harry's eyebrow quirked. "Stop me? Really?"

"Yes, really." Her gaze was serious. "I'm a lot tougher than you are, and way better at casting Reducto. No more dangerous spells or potions, okay? No more spying on the Dark Lord through wide open doors, inviting him in for tea."

"I wasn't spying on him," he told her, not really sure why the words had tumbled from his lips. He could feel more of the poison wanting to come out, could feel himself going tense as he thought of the damage the Blood Trance had wrought. If he had not risked it she would have had no reason to be afraid for him, he could be out there looking for Dumbledore, and he could have gone merrily along hating Snape for no reason other than that he was a greasy git that liked to torment his students. And now the illusions were shattered. "I was looking for my dad."

Her eyes softened as she tried to draw his gaze, but failed at his refusal to meet her eyes. "They told me you don't think James Potter is your dad." He momentarily frowned and she hastily went on, "They only told me because they think it's ridiculous. I think so too. You're no expert at potions, in cause the past six years have failed to get that through your head, even if you are the great Harry Potter." Her voice was teasing, trying to lighten the mood, and he could appreciate the reason why she would try.

But it wasn't working. "Maybe I'm not the great Harry Potter," he breathed, feeling his lungs start to sting. Compulsion to test the revulsion of the friend before him pushed the words out of his mouth before he could stop them. "I saw Snape in the Trance. He's my dad."

There was a momentary twitch of surprise at her eyes, but her expression of resolve and support did not fade. "Let's pretend you aren't wrong," she began, choosing her words carefully, gaze never leaving the walls of defense he was building around him behind his own eyes. She shook her head. "It doesn't change who you are, doesn't change what Voldemort did to your mother and the man you thought was your dad. Last I checked your robes still have the Gryffindor emblem on them. Unless, you want…"

"_No!_" He hadn't meant to hiss it, but he absolutely wanted nothing to do with being like his father.

Ginny shrugged, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. He was staggered, a thousand reasons why she should be shocked, stunned and disgusted running through his mind. She wasn't going to have it, either. "Then stop sulking and let's figure out what we're going to do about the Dark Lord. Hermione said you said Dumbledore told you some things. Let's start there."

Harry opened his mouth to speak, closed it, opened it once more then knit his brow. "You don't even care what I just said? I could be Harry Snape, son of a betrayer and Death Eater. Right hand man to the very man who has sworn to find and kill me. Doesn't that bother you?"

Her enigmatic smile made him clench his teeth. "Not at all. And neither will Ron and Hermione."

"Do _not_ tell anyone you know this!"

"I won't."

Her promise was genuine, he could tell. Yes, she was trying to make light of everything he had just said, but it wasn't because she callously disregarded Harry's pain. He could see it in her eyes. She knew who he was, cared for that person, and perception of genetics was going to change that. And all along he realized he knew it would be the same for Ron and Hermione, and anyone that mattered. Harry pressed his forehead to the glass, staring down at a bird soaring around a tree, looking for a safe place to land. "Remus wouldn't say much about whatever Snape did to him, but he did warn me of one thing. Snape's sworn to either bring me to Voldemort or kill me himself if need be. He's got a year to do it."

Ginny put her hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry, Harry. But we'll be with you every step of the way."

He put his hand on hers without even thinking. "I'm sorry too. Sorry that whatever we do, it's gonna have to involve killing my father." Harry avoided her gaze again, not sure he wanted to see what emotion would be written there. As the door across the room opened again he gave her hand a squeeze. "Don't tell them. Not yet. I will…when I'm ready."

There was no reply but he knew she would keep his secret or as long as he needed her to. She pulled away when Ron neared and gave him a punch on the shoulder, winning a bewildered, "Ow! Crazy bint." He rubbed the pain as Harry turned to regard his friends. "We're here to bust you out, mate. Thought maybe we'd…"

"…go directly to the dorms," Hermione interrupted in an insistent voice, as if Ron had been poised to suggest something else, something less restful. Her brown eyes shimmered in curiosity. "I thought maybe we could talk, and it's empty right around now."

For once Harry thought Hermione had the better idea. Ginny had been right. Now was not the time to sulk, but to plan their next move.

**xxx**Finite Incantatum!**xxx**

**Author: **Ruse angelruseATgmailDOTcom

**Disclaimer**: Harry and company belong to the wonderful JK Rowling, whom I thank personally for the deliciousness that is Snape.

**xxx**

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**Super!A/N:** Not getting a lot of reviews on this, I'm guessing because of the direction I took Snape in. To that I can only say I love Severus Snape as a character, I love that Alan Rickman plays him because he brings out that quality in Snape that makes us want to see him do well, and anything I do or would have done with Snape will be with those things in mind. If I've gotten rusty in writing, I apologize and humbly drag my vision of Sevvy back into the depths of my sick little mind. ;-)

**xxx**

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**A/N**: Yes, this reeks of unresolve. Just know that in a perfect _**perfect**_ Seventh Year Snape would destroy Voldemort, declare me his wicked queen and we'd work on Harry's sis (course that wouldn't make for good public writing, now would it?)

;-) Thank you to everyone that reviewed 800 years ago, and anyone kind enough to be inclined to review now. :-D May Snape visit you in your dreams bearing Chocolate Frogs and snarky remarks.


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